Campione of the Raging Tides
by SeerKing
Summary: Campione rise and fall, but none are ever older than a thousand years old, because every thousand years, they are mysteriously wiped out. As the end of this current millennia draws to a close, watch through the eyes of the newly risen Eighth Campione as she rises into power and stands against those who seek to end her.
1. An Encounter

**Author's Note: This is my first attempt to insert an OC into a story as something resembling a main character, so constructive criticism is much appreciated.**

**Read and Review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Campione!**

"Godō" - Regular Speech

'_My Everyday life…!_' - Thoughts

"**God Slayer!"** - Heretic God/Powered Up Campione speech

"_**Fire!**_" - Magic Spell/ Authority use

**Prologue**

A Campione, known variously as Rakshasa Raja, Devil King, Supreme Lords and Bastard-Children of Epimetheus, are Mortals who have, through some means or other, slain a Heretic God or Goddess and stolen one or more of the defeated deities' Divine Authorities for themselves.

No mere Mage can stand up to the might of a Campione, for the power of the Gods that dwells within the God-Slayers renders all mortal magic null and void unless it is injected directly into the body of the Campione in question. Even the magic of other Campione is rarely full effective against another.

At this time, there are seven Campione, each ruling a different area of the globe, in Asia, Europe and America. They are: Marquis Sasha Voban, King of the Balkans; Luo Cuilian, The Ruler of the Martial Realm; Madame Aisha, The Queen of Caves; Alexander Gascoigne, the Black Prince; John Pluto Smith, The Masked Campione; Lord Salvatore Doni, the King of Swords; and finally, Kusanagi Godō, the Campione of Japan.

After a fierce battle, the newest Campione, Kusanagi Godō, has emerged victorious against The Great Sage Equalling Heaven, Sun Wukong, and his sworn brothers, Zhu Ganglie and Vaisravana. He was supported by two of his fellow Campione, Luo Cuilian and John Pluto Smith, in one of the few-recorded instances of Campione ever cooperating with one another towards a common goal.

As Godō attempts to return to his everyday life as a regular Japanese High School Student and ignore the fact he is a Campione, events begin to move in Britain that will herald more problems for the most reluctant Campione…

**Chapter 1: An Encounter**

_**Middle of the Sound of Iona, Scotland**_

Jean Campbell sighed as she gazed across the sea outside the Caledonian MacBrayne small ferry _Loch Buie_. She was currently heading from the Isle of Mull to the main settlement of the Isle of Iona, Baile Mór.

Jean was a young woman of eighteen, with long red hair in a ponytail and bright blue eyes. She wore an olive coat and blue jeans and had a black suitcase by her side.

'_I never thought that I would actually come back to this place again._' she though morosely as she shifted her gaze to where a small section of the island was visible from the window she sat at. The _Loch Buie_ was a small ferry with no forward-facing windows or portholes, so all she could see was a small sliver of the island.

Her parents had died ten years ago to the day in a stupid car crash that was nobody's fault when they were driving back to Oban from Glasgow. She hadn't been with them, having been left with her only other living relative in Oban while they had attended Glasgow for a meeting of some sort.

She had never returned to Iona, where she had once lived with her parents, since they had died. Her Great-Aunt Ella had taken her in and raised her after the funerals in Oban.

Aunt Ella had lived a long life by that point, being seventy-nine years old. When Jean had entered her Third Year of High School at Oban High, her aunt had fallen gravely ill, lasting until the end of Jean's Sixth year and graduation from High School, not even a month ago, before she passed away, leaving Jean completely alone.

From the inheritances and bequests from her parents and Aunt Ella, even after deducting Aunt Ella's funeral expenses, she could afford to rent a flat in Oban for a while whilst she looked for a job. She would do that as soon as she took care of her business on Iona: readying her parent's old house for sale.

She didn't know why Aunt Ella hadn't sold it years ago, but the point was she still had the place and she wanted no part of it. She would inspect the house and grounds and clean it up before arranging to have the place put on the market to be sold.

With any luck, the proceeds from the sale would reduce the student loan she would have to take out to get through college, perhaps even add to her small nest egg of savings as well.

*_Attention all passengers, this ferry shall be docking at __Baile Mór in a few moments._* the announcer spoke suddenly, *_Please make sure you have all your personal belongings with you before you disembark and, on behalf of all Caledonian MacBrayne staff, we thank you for travelling with us._*

"Well, let's get this over with." Jean muttered as she started running through the small mental checklist of everything she had brought with her.

In the other lounge of the _Loch Buie_, another young woman sighed despondently. She had chestnut hair cut into a neat bob, black eyes and pale skin that said that she didn't get out much.

Her name was Rebecca Piper. She was a magic user, a Hearth Witch to be precise, and she was a member of the Greenwich Witenagemot. And she was _not_ happy to be here.

To say that she was 'not happy' was something of a mild understatement. She was furious, put out and highly confused as to why she was even here. She had still journeyed here, because, nobody questioned an order from Princess Alice.

Rather, it had been a 'helpful suggestion' from Princess Alice, but it amounted to much the same thing as an order. Standing at the pinnacle of Heaven-based witchcraft, being a Princess-Shrine Maiden and possessing Clairvoyance and the ability to see into the future, Princess Alice was a 'Special Advisor' to the Witenagemot, which gave her enough sway and influence over the organisation to pretty much do as she wished, within reason.

The only time someone hadn't heeded her advice, a Campione had been born, Lord Salvatore Doni. After that, word was quietly passed around the entire organisation threatening dire things if her advice was ignored again.

Alice had already had the reputation of having almost a hundred percent accuracy with her predictions before this and her warning that 'a walking disaster would inhabit the land if nothing was done' was made a reality with the birth of the King of Swords as a God Slayer.

So really, Rebecca hadn't had much choice when the ectoplasmal clone of Princess Alice suggested to her, after she had been summoned to Alice's chambers, that she take a holiday to the Isle of Iona in Scotland, and investigates any unusual magical emanations while she was at it.

'_Why do I have to do this?_' Rebecca whined to herself, '_I'm a Hearth Witch! Outside of my home, I'm almost powerless! The only special magic I have is my Librarian's magic!_'

In her opinion, this kind of busywork was best left to Black Prince Alec's Royal Arsenal Association. They were commoners, thieves and knaves, the perfect type of people to investigate unusual things to do with magic.

Royal Arsenal opposed the Witenagemot on principle. The Witenagemot was made up of elites; mages from noble and royal families, the best lineages available and it had been so since its founding in the middle of the Victorian Era, whereas Royal Arsenal was made up of combat mages, commoners and rogues.

She had heard rumours that Alec had left the British isles for the Orient for some reason. Perhaps he was going to fight the new Campione…Kusanagi, wasn't it? Rebecca neither knew nor cared, so long as he remained far away from her.

As the Ferry slid next to the jetty, and began to lower the front ramp to begin the disembarking process, the Witch knew one thing without the shred of a doubt.

"Today is going to really suck." she muttered aloud before moving to disembark.

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_**Half an Hour Later**_

_**Jean's House, **__**Baile Mór**_

The small stone cottage that had been the home of Angus and Michaela Campbell was located on the very edge of the outskirts of Iona's main settlement. Modest in size, it had been the perfect size for the small family that had once lived there. The garden, once taken care of by Jean's mother, was now overgrown with ten years of abandonment.

Jean sighed. She wasn't really surprised by all of this, but it did mean that she had her work cut out for her. It would take quite some time before she could get this place ready for the open market.

'_The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step._' she reminded herself tiredly as she gazed somewhat apathetically at the barely recognisable hedge and cracked pavestones that were the property's boundary.

"Excuse me?" a female voice called to Jean from her left. She turned her head to see a woman walking towards her. Jean automatically assessed her with the ease of long practice.

She had short brown hair, black eyes and pale skin, which indicated that she didn't get out much. Her clothes were an oddity, consisting of a very conservative shirt, blouse and long skirt, none of which was suitable for travel. On her shoulder, she carried a medium-sized tote bag.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Jean asked as she turned to face the woman.

"Indeed." the woman replied. Jean placed her accent as being from the Midlands, with a slight burr in it from living in the Greater London area, "Is this your house?"

The woman gestured at the bungalow lazily.

"Only as long as it takes for me to make it fit for human habitation." Jean replied dryly, "Why do you ask?"

"Are you aware that there is a Grimoire inside?" the other woman asked her quietly.

"A what now?" Jean wasn't sure, but she though she detected a flash of surprise in the woman's eyes.

"Please don't try and fool me. I am Rebecca Piper, a member of the Greenwich Witenagemot." the woman said sharply.

"Never heard of you." Jean replied bluntly, "And I'm Jean Campbell, since we seem to be introducing ourselves."

"Come off it." Rebecca scoffed, "I can _feel_ the magic in your blood."

"So you're a magician of some kind?" Jean asked with a frown.

Jean's honest confusion made Rebecca frown. "Do you seriously not know what I'm taking about?" she asked carefully.

"I think I just said that." Jean deadpanned.

"OK then." Rebecca took a deep breath before looking Jean straight in the eyes, "I am, as I previously stated, a member of the Greenwich Witenagemot, a Mage Association based in London. I sensed the presence of a Grimoire on this island the moment I set foot on it, and was only just now able to narrow the location to this house."

"Are you Wiccan or something?" Jean asked suspiciously, "Because I'm an atheist, just so you know."

A snort of laughter erupted from the Hearth Witch. "Ha! Nice guess, but no dice. Look, this isn't exactly something that needs to be spoken of in public, so can we go inside?"

Jean huffed. "Fine. But nobody's lived here in a decade, so it'll be dusty. Just to warn you in advance."

_**Inside the House…**_

"Uwaaah!" Rebecca let out a squeak of shock, "You weren't kidding! What's _with_ all this dust?"

The place wasn't actually all that bad. Jean's Great Aunt had come in a few days after the funeral and covered the furniture with tarps to stop any dust from gathering on the actual furniture, but there was a lot of dust on top of the sheets.

"Like I said, it has been ten years since anyone's been living here." Jean said impatiently as she led her guest into the living room, "What did you expect? Now what on earth were you talking about out there?"

Rebecca was staring at the dust-covered living room in shock. Every instinct in her was screaming at her to clean this place up. As a Hearth Witch, she drew her strength from the state of her Hearth or, in modern terms, her home. A neat Hearth meant she was powerful, a messy one meant she was weak, so she was kind of OCD about tidiness

"Hmmm? Oh, yes." Rebecca hurriedly brought her mind away from the place-that-must-be-tidied and back to why she was here in the first place.

"Basically, magic is real." she told Jean, who regarded her sceptically, "Witches, wizards, mages, sorcerers…no matter what you call them, they exist, hidden from modern society, yet inextricably linked with it at the same time."

"In what way?" Jean asked, "Assuming magic exists, like you say."

"First, to prove magic exists." Rebecca reached inside her tote bag and brought out a thin piece of wood. It was intricately carved from what looked like mahogany and had several strings of pictograms that Jean thought might be Greek Letters across the surface.

At the base of the grip section of the wand -at least, Jean guessed it was a wand- was a crystal orb the size of a large thimble. Rebecca caught Jean looking at it.

"This wand has been passed down through my family for ten generations, from mother to daughter." she told Jean with a smile, "It is a family heirloom, carved from a hundred year old mahogany tree limb."

"Seriously?" Jean was very sceptical of this.

"Yes, seriously." Rebecca had to respect the healthy amount of scepticism that the Scottish girl possessed. It was rather refreshing to deal with someone who didn't automatically believe what she said. "If you do not mind, I wish to cast a spell to clean this room."

"Go ahead." Jean replied, utterly unconvinced. "If you succeed, it'll be a lot less work for me."

"Very well." Rebecca said and raised her wand up before her, "_**I beseech thee, Lady Hestia! Goddess of the Hearth and Home! Lend me thy aid and restore this room to its former glory!**_"

As the Hearth Witch spoke, a feeling of light warmth began to emanate from her, a feeling that Jean hadn't felt in over two years; the feeling of a safe and happy home. Rebecca's wand then began to emit light brown pulses that spread around the entire living room.

Where the light touched, dust seemed to simply dissolve into nothing. The sheets levitated from the furniture and neatly folded themselves up and flew to the middle of the room. The fireplace, unused in a decade, was surely not blazing away merrily?

Jean gazed around her in shock. The place looked as good as new. There were no personal items left in the house, but save for that minor detail, the room looked exactly as she recalled it from her hazy childhood memories.

"Y…you really _are_ a witch!" she exclaimed in slack-jawed amazement. She knew she had the only key to the door, so this woman couldn't have entered beforehand to set up any tricks. Besides, she had always been good at spotting the usual magicians tricks that used wires and there were no scents in the air to indicate hallucinogens were used.

"Thank you for noticing." Rebecca replied smugly, "To continue my explanation, I was sent here to holiday, with instructions to investigate any unusual magical happenings or sudden magical signatures appearing. As soon as I stepped off the ferry, I detected something, so I cast a divining cantrip in order to find it, as well as a spell to parse the exact type of magic it was. It took a while, but I managed to find the source of the magic."

"In my parent's old house?" Jean asked in mild confusion, "But neither of them were Mages…at least to the best of my knowledge."

"They didn't have to be." Rebecca replied, "The type of magic I detected is that of a Grimoire."

"Grimoire…a book of magical spells?" Jean guessed.

"According to popular culture, yes." the witch said as she took a seat on an armchair, "In reality, a Grimoire can be a stone amulet or tablet, an actual book or even a statue, each having different abilities and containing different powers from different Heretic Gods."

"Wait, gods exist? As in more than one as well?" Jean asked in surprise, "Moreover, how can a _god_ be a _heretic_?"

"The gods of myth do exist." Rebecca explained, "And yes, I mean _every_ god of myth. The Greek Pantheon, their Roman counterparts, Native American spirits, Aztec gods…for all I know, so too does the god of the bible, although thankfully, he has never manifested as a Heretic God, although His Angels have."

"Like I said, how can a god be a heretic?" Jean asked impatiently.

"Gods are born from myths and legends and their abilities are shaped by the various tales spoken of them." Rebecca replied, "For some gods though, their myth's form and legend becomes a burden and they rebel, breaking free of their tales and manifesting in our world from the Domain of Immortality. Here, they cause trouble on par with natural disasters until they are defeated and sent back. That is why they are called heretics; because they rebel against what humanity imagines them to be."

"Damn!" Jean said incredulously, "Why haven't they been reported on the news?"

"Because only those with magic can see Heretic Gods. To ordinary humans, they appear to be regular natural disasters." Rebecca said seriously, "It is best that ordinary humans do not know such things happen on a frequent basis. What do you imagine that members of the military -of _any_ country- would do if they discovered that incredibly powerful beings habitually descend to the land and there is very little we can do to stop it?"

"Use the most powerful weapons at their disposal to destroy them with extreme prejudice." Jean replied immediately, "Either that or try and get them on their side to use as weapons. I see your point."

"Excellent." Rebecca nodded her head, "Now, we have a…_countermeasure_…of sorts that can deal with Heretic Gods. They are very much volatile to use and impossible to direct, but they do suffice most of the time. However, it is possible for a Heretic God to be…fractured…and lose one or more aspects of themselves when they battle the countermeasures. These aspects, called Divine Authorities, are a part of the God, an aspect of his or her personality and being. Without them, they are weakened and often their personality changes drastically without them.

What is usually done is the Authorities are sealed into Grimoires, containing their power and preventing the God from reclaiming it. This is what Grimoires are."

"So…I have the shattered fragment of a god concealed in or about my house." Jean said after a moment, "Is that what you are saying?"

"Essentially, yes." the Hearth Witch replied.

"Right." Jean took in a deep breath, "Then you wish to acquire this Grimoire then?"

"Yes, in order to keep it safe." Rebecca said.

"Very well." Jean said with a sigh, "I'll help you look for it. You can stay here while you search for it."

"My thanks." Rebecca was surprised by the generosity of the offer. "In return, I'll use my magic to help you make this house as good as new."

"No, thank you." Jean shook her head, "Now, we should see about preparing the bedrooms for bed tonight, then a little shopping at the village shop for dinner."

"By 'we', I presume you mean me?" Rebecca asked archly.

"No. I'll do my…my parents old room while you tidy the spare room." Jean replied, her voice hitching slightly when she mentioned her parents.

"Very well." Rebecca stood up again and laid a hand on Jeans shoulder, "Lead the way."

Nodding, the Scottish girl led the Hearth Witch to the spare bedroom before heading for the room that used to belong to her parents.

Opening the door, she slowly walked in and took the room in. The bed was neatly made, the ornaments and other various knick-knacks packed neatly into boxes off to one side. The large wooden wardrobe that her father had bought her mother while on honeymoon stood just as tall and impressive as she remembered.

She softly placed her hand on it as she recalled that her mother had loved that wardrobe. Running her hand over its hand-carved surface, she marvelled at the sheer amount of fine detail that had been put into it. Horses galloped around the outside, with waves lapping at the bottom.

"Dear God!" a gasp came from the doorway. Jean swung around to see Rebecca staring at the wardrobe in shock.

"What?" she asked.

"I came when I felt a surge of magic…_your_ magic." Rebecca replied, "What were you doing?"

"I don't have magic." Jean replied flatly.

"Yes you do. I can sense it." Rebecca replied patiently, "Are you sure that your parents weren't magic users of some sort? That sort of thing tends to run in bloodlines."

"As I said, to the best of my knowledge, they were ordinary people." Jean replied, slightly exasperated at this line of questioning, "They worked for some big pharmaceutical company as auditors, I think."

"Perhaps it skipped a generation or two with them." Rebecca mused aloud, "It isn't unheard of. What about your grandmothers or grandfathers?"

"Granny Macintosh died giving birth to my mother. Granny Campbell died from a stroke when I was one." Jean replied, "Granddad Macintosh died from a heart attack a year after my mother got married. Granddad Campbell died from tuberculosis before I was born."

"Your family sounds like it was cursed." Rebecca remarked, "I won't bother asking about great-grandparents. You wouldn't have known them."

"True." Jean nodded.

"What were you doing before I came in?" Rebecca asked curiously, "You were channelling a lot of magic, even unconsciously."

"I wasn't 'doing' anything." Jean replied, "I was just looking at the wardrobe with my hand on it like this."

She demonstrated. Rebecca gasped again.

"Jean, this is…a Guardian Spell." the Hearth Witch said in mild disbelief.

"A what now?" Jean asked as she removed her hand from the wardrobe again.

"A Guardian Spell." Rebecca repeated, "A spell that protects something. This-" she flapped her hand at the wardrobe, "-is a very high level Guardian spell. How I never detected it before is beyond me; it is practically shining like a beacon to my [Magic Investigation] ability. It seems to be attuned to your magic…or perhaps the magic of your family…"

"It can't be the last one." Jean objected, "My father bought it for my mother on their honeymoon."

"Oh? Then it must have used your parents as a vehicle to get away from wherever it was." Rebecca said absently as she examined the wardrobe with her [Magic Investigation] ability, "Some high-level Guardian spells have a limited sentience and the ability to influence ordinary people in order to fulfil their task. In this case, to find someone worthy of unsealing it."

"How can you tell?"

"Whoever made this Guardian Spell either wasn't very good at concealing the spells they cast or they simply didn't care." Rebecca replied, "The spell is lit up like a beacon as I mentioned, especially when you are nearby. Evidently, it has deemed you worthy of whatever it is that it is guarding. The Grimoire, most likely."

"But…I haven't even been trained in how to use magic." Jean said in puzzlement, "In what way am I worthy?"

"I cannot see the criteria." the Hearth Witch said with a frown, "Regardless; you must unseal the Guardian Spell for me to get the Grimoire."

"How? No experience with magic here."

"Place your hand back on the wardrobe." Rebecca instructed. After Jean complied, the Witch whistled. "My, my. That spell is sucking your magic like a man after a drought. Is your hand hot or cold? Any difference from normal?"

"Ummm…" Jean had to think for a moment, "Itchy."

"_Itchy_?" Rebecca repeated in bafflement, "What could that mean…Ah? Ah-ha! Now I get it. Put your other hand on the wardrobe, next to your other one."

Bemused, Jean complied, flinching when Rebecca let out a shout of triumph.

"I KNEW IT!" the brunette gloated loudly, "I just knew it!"

After that undecipherable outburst, she whipped out a pad and pen and began to jot down something. After a moment, she finished and gestured at Jean, who dropped her hands from the wardrobe and trotted over to the excited Hearth Witch.

"When you put both your hands on the wardrobe, the spell to unseal the Guardian appeared to me." Rebecca said triumphantly, "Here it is."

She passed the pad to Jean who examined it for a moment.

"So what do I need to do?" She asked.

"Simply recite the words on the pad while you have both hands on the wardrobe." Rebecca replied, "You'll be exhausted afterwards though, just to give you advanced warning."

"Thanks for the heads up." Jean said wryly, "Right, let's get this show on the road."

She walked back to the wardrobe and placed her hands on it.

"Wait, don't you need to memorise the spell?" Rebecca called worriedly.

"I have an eidetic memory, very close to a photographic memory." Jean replied, "I rarely have to see or hear anything more than once to recall it with nigh perfect clarity."

"So lucky!" Rebecca blurted out.

"You'd think so, but it was irritating to conceal it in High School. So troublesome." Jean said, "Anyway, I'm going to start."

Rebecca nodded and stepped back.

Taking a deep breath, Jean began to speak.

"_**Ye, who walks the righteous path, hearken unto me. I stand as both a blessing unto life and a curse upon the world. I stand betwixt sea and land with the vicious tumult of the storm about me. My children both fly in the heavens and charge across the battlefield. My rage both heals and harms, yet none can stop me. By this power, I stand as God supreme. **__**Κουτί της γης δονητή!**_"

As Jean spoke, the wardrobe began to glow and then shrink. It condensed until, by the time Jean spoke the odd Greek phrase at the end, the wardrobe had shrunk to the size of an attaché case. With one final flash of turquoise light, the wooden case dropped into Jeans outstretched hands.

"Uhhhh…" Jean groaned as she staggered drunkenly. She felt like she had just run three miles non-stop, yet so full of energy she could still run another three miles.

"Easy there." Rebecca caught her and guided the Scottish girl to the bed, "That was actually very well done for your first conscious use of magic, especially unravelling such a powerful Guardian Spell."

Jean smiled tiredly and then looked at the box in surprise. Apparently, she had not realised that she was holding it.

"Damn. My wardrobe's had a makeover." she said, "And a diet."

The box was now lined with a precious stone that Rebecca identified as Schist, or greenstone. The centre of the box had a bronze emblem that looked like a chasm or rift in the ground. Other than that, there was only a Mother-of-Pearl strip around the edge of the wooden case. No signs of a latch or even a seam was even visible.

"How do you register this thing now?" Jean asked the English Witch.

"I don't." Rebecca admitted with a frown, "It's like it isn't even there."

"A second Guardian Spell?" Jean suggested, but Rebecca shook her head.

"You can only lay a single Guardian Spell on something and, even then, it doesn't block the [Magic Investigation] ability of a witch. That would take a powerful Concealment Spell."

"That's what's been done then." Jean concluded, "With the absence of magic as a key, that leaves either brute force or a concealed opening mechanism."

"It will not be brute force." Rebecca said firmly, "There would be too much chance of possibly damaging the Grimoire within the case."

"Concealed mechanism it is then." Jean said and began to examine the case with a practiced eye, "It's a good thing I have Aspergers Syndrome in this case…aha!"

She pressed the centre of the split ravine. The two separated halves came together and a thin seam appeared in the top of the box, which slid apart with a well-oiled click.

"Aspergers?" Rebecca asked.

"Minor form of Autism." Jean replied, "I'm no Autistic Savant, but I am very good at seeing the world from a different perspective. I see things that others overlook. Ordinarily I suck at problem solving, but puzzle boxes have set limits to what can be done with them, so I'm quite good at them."

"Fair enough." Rebecca said, "Now, let's see exactly what kind of Grimoire we are dealing with here…"

She took the box from Jean, set it down on the bed and peered into it alongside Jean. The interior of the case was lined with turquoise silk and there were four indentations in the very centre, arranged in a diamond, of which two were occupied by talismans of some sort.

The first was made of bronze and had the emblem of a rearing Horse etched into it. The second looked like it was carved out of red coral and had a Trident inlayed into it made out of pure gold.

"Oh, no…!" Rebecca breathed in horror, "Not _one_ Grimoire, but _three_!"

"Wait, three? The two talismans and what else?" Jean asked in concern.

"The box!" Rebecca replied, "What is worse all three are from the _same god!_ This is bad, very, very bad!"

Jean thought about the symbols on each item. The chasm on the box, the Trident and the Horse on the talismans…only one god fit the bill.

"Poseidon." she said softly, "One of the three sons of Kronos. Lord of the Oceans. Horselord. Earth-Shaker. Stormlord."

She turned to Rebecca, who was paralyzed in fear. "Why is this so troublesome? Just take the box and take it to your Headquarters or whatever you were planning to do…"

This seemed to shake Rebecca out of her frozen state. "R-right. Close the box, Jean. For whatever reason, it seems you are the only one who can operate it."

"Joy. A fractured part of an eons-old sea god likes me." Jean remarked dryly, which surprised a laugh from Rebecca. The redhead touched a small lever on the inside of the case and the two halves of the lid smoothly slid shut again, closing seamlessly.

"So, does this mean that Poseidon was a Heretic God at one point?" she asked as she ferreted out a briefcase that used to belong to her father and placed the wooden Grimoire inside it.

"He must have been." Rebecca said with a frown, "There are no record of him becoming one in the last hundred and fifty-odd years, so his advent as a Heretic God must predate the founding of the Witenagemot."

"Following on from that, he must have either fought another Heretic God or one of these mysterious 'countermeasures' that you seem reluctant to talk about and been badly wounded enough to fracture and lose three of his Authorities. What happened then do you think?"

"_Ordinarily_, I would say that he was defeated." Rebecca replied with a sigh, "But this _is_ one of the three most powerful Greek Gods that we are talking about. He likely defeated whoever was fighting him and then, for some reason, instead of reclaiming his Authorities, he created these Grimoires and sealed the Authorities within them."

"Why would he do that? It makes no sense!" Jean said as she stood up and turned to face Rebecca.

"I have no idea." the brunette witch replied with a shake of her head, "The way gods think -especially _Heretic_ Gods- is completely at odds with most kinds of logic or reason that we humans adhere to."

"Can you contact your organisation and arrange for guards or something?" Jean asked looking around uneasily, "I have a _really_ bad feeling for some reason."

"I sense nothing." Rebecca frowned.

Abruptly, a sensation of utter _wrongness_ hit the two women, making them stumble before the caught themselves. The loud sound of waves crashing increased in volume, and thunder roared as a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, clearly visible in the bedroom's window.

Rebecca paled. "A Heretic God has descended." she whispered.

"Poseidon." Jean said flatly, "Three guesses what he's after."

"I was right; today really sucks!" Rebecca moaned as she turned around and stalked out of the room, Jean following her.

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**Next Chapter: Heretic God Poseidon**

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	2. Heretic God Poseidon

**Author's Note: Here's Chapter 2. Now, I have to put this out here firmly: there is no pairing planned for Jean at this moment in time. She will not be in Kusanagi's Harem. Enough said about that.**

**Read and Review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Campione!**

"Godō" - Regular Speech

'_My Everyday life__…__!_' - Thoughts

"**God Slayer!****"** - Heretic God/Powered Up Campione speech

"_**Fire!**_" - Magic/Authority Use

**Chapter 2: Heretic God Poseidon**

_Jean Campbell's House_

The two young women looked out the living room window and saw nothing but pitch-black storm clouds in the sky. Lightening crisscrossed the horizon and the rumble of thunder was prominent.

"Shit." Rebecca muttered, "This is not good. This is soooo not good."

"I think I get that part." Jean said dryly, "Any chance you could use the phone here to call your organisation to get help?"

"I'll try." the Hearth Witch said doubtfully. She picked up the phone and held it to her ear. "No dialling tone."

"My mobile has no signal either." Jean said as she checked her phone, "Dammit. What now?"

"Poseidon will eventually find the location of the three Grimoires and come for them." Rebecca said, "We have to get them away from human habitation."

"Away from Baile Mór then." Jean muttered, "This is where most people live on Iona. Where will the Sea God have manifested?"

"Depends." Rebecca frowned in thought, "We're surrounded by the ocean, so theoretically he could appear anywhere on the coast, even in the harbour. Is there anywhere on Iona that has a connection to any of Poseidon's other sphere's of influence?"

Jean had to think about that for a moment. "Well…there's _Eilean Annraidh _to the north…that means 'Isle of Storms' in Gaelic."

"That's where he'll be then." the witch said uneasily, "We should assume that he retains his other two Authorities."

"Shouldn't he have more than that? He is one of the most powerful gods in Greek mythology." Jean pointed out.

"The box contains one Authority, with two other Grimoires within it, plus the space for two more." Rebecca pointed out, "We have his Earthshaker Authority, his Trident Authority and his Horse Authority. Taking the numerous legends about him into consideration, that leaves Storm and Ocean."

"Great. Well, let's get the box and get to an isolated part of the island." Jean sighed, "Maybe we can convince him to go away by giving them back to him…"

"ARE YOU MAD!?" Rebecca screamed, "_Give him his Authorities back?! _When the Campione of Britain isn't here?! Are you insane?!"

"When the _what_ isn't here?" Jean asked, wincing at the level of the witch's voice.

Rebecca deflated at that. "I…suppose I had better fill you in on that subject." she said, "A Campione is someone who has slain a Heretic God and usurped that God's Authorities for themselves, although no ordinary Mage can survive an encounter like that."

"Eh?" Jean was surprised here, "But…how can they still be dealing with Heretic Gods if they died doing it in the first place?"

"It's a forbidden rite." Rebecca said softly, "It requires someone to sacrifice their life in order to defeat a Heretic God, with the assistance of a Witch. They are then reborn as God Slayers. Campione are known as 'Bastard Children of Epimetheus' as it is the Titan God of Afterthought and his wife, Pandora, who are thought to have created the process. As well as the fact that Campione are infamous for doing, then thinking about it after the fact."

"You…really dislike Campione, don't you?" Jean noted.

"The thought of being near one terrifies me." the Hearth Witch replied with a shudder, "All of them are tyrannical men and women who do as they please! Yes, they are the only ones who can kill Heretic Gods, but still, they rule over the area where they base themselves with an iron fist."

"Uh-huh." Jean said as she hefted the box that was the focus of all this trouble, "So, to summarise, they are despots who are a necessary evil and are presumably just as unassailable as Heretic Gods are to normal Mages?"

"Yes." Rebecca replied, "Even Great Knights of Militant Mage Organisations stand no chance against them."

"I thought we were talking about mages." Jean replied in confusion.

"Nowadays, combat mages are referred to as 'Knights'." Rebecca told the Scottish girl, "Following on from that, the most powerful combat mage in any organisation is generally referred to as a 'Great Knight', while the leader of the Organisation is referred to as the 'Paladin'."

"So an Archmage then." Jean translated, "This is one hell of a SNAFU that we're in."

"SNAFU?" Rebecca asked in confusion.

"Situation Normal: All Fucked Up." Jean translated absently, "It's military slang used when things go downhill."

"A crude, but apt, summation of our current circumstances." Rebecca sighed, "We're cut off from mundane communication, isolated on an island by a sea god and utterly alone."

"Do you have any magical communication methods?" jean asked.

"No, none." Rebecca snorted, "I'm a _Hearth_ _Witch_, Jean. Inside the place I call home, I have power above what most regular mages possess; outside of my home, I am a fairly weak witch. I know basic Librarian magic and a couple of self defence spells from the School of Hermetic Magic, but nothing that could concern a Heretic God or communicate with London."

"So we can't run, we can't hide, we can't contact someone for help and we can't defend ourselves." Jean growled, "I hate this situation."

"Join the club." Rebecca muttered, "Anyway, let's head to the north-west of the island. That area should be uninhabited, right?"

"Aye, it should be." Jean nodded, "I haven't been on Iona for a decade though, so there might be something new up there."

"From what little I recall from the guide books I have read, past the Macleod Centre, the only places people might go to is either the Hermit's Cell or the Well of Eternal Youth near Dun I." Rebecca thought aloud.

"That's what I remember as well." Jean confirmed, "Well, we'd better head out. The sooner we get this box away from civilisation, the better."

The two women raided the small cloakroom and grabbed coats that had belonged to Jean's mother in order to protect themselves from the storm. Jean also slipped the box into a rucksack that her father had used for camping.

As they headed out, Jean grimaced at the storm clouds that were swirling around the island before she noticed something.

"There's no wind…" she muttered, "A storm almost always has wind, so why is there none?"

"This isn't a natural storm, remember?" her companion reminded her, "Poseidon has the ability to create storms at sea out of nothing. Half of the storms in the _Iliad_ were supposedly sent by the sea god out of nowhere."

"His powers are so broken." Jean groused, "And Campione have access to them? No wonder no one can go against them."

"They do have restrictions on their powers." Rebecca replied as they made their way up the road, "From what I have read, the Authorities shape themselves to fit the individual Campione that they belong to. They gain restrictions on them that the Heretic God they came from never had to deal with."

"That…sounds a lot fairer." Jean conceded, "How many Campione are there anyway?"

"Seven." Rebecca replied as it started to rain. They both pulled their hoods up as she continued, "Five males and two females. The one we look to in Britain is known as The Black Prince Alec."

"Black Prince? Seriously?" Jean asked in mild disbelief, "Sounds like the title of a gigolo or something."

Rebecca laughed at that before looking around warily, as if Alec might be around to hear her. "That…is a point." she said at last, "Anyway, he pretends to not be like other Campione, but he is most definitely a tyrant. If he finds something that interests him, he steals it and leaves a note to tell the owner who did it and why."

"So he's a glorified thief with the nickname of a gigolo." Jean said dryly, "Joy. And why isn't he in Britain again?"

"He went off to the Orient for some reason." the Witenagemot member replied with a shrug, "Probably to fight the new Campione, Kusanagi something-or-other. He's the worst of the lot."

"Oh?"

"He's an infamous womaniser!" Rebecca ranted, "He's seduced two female Great Knights, two powerful Hime-Miko and even Lucretia Zola, the most powerful Earth Witch in the world!"

"What the heck are Hime-Miko?" Jean asked, "It sounds Japanese."

"The term _is_ Japanese." Rebecca replied as she calmed down, "The translation is 'Princess Shrine Maiden' and they are the descendants of fallen Mother Earth Goddesses. They are powerful priestesses who possess various abilities that we witches do not have that allow them to touch the divine."

"Wow…" Jean was unsure what to say to this. Descendents of fallen goddesses? Touching the divine? This was so out of her depth that it wasn't even funny.

The two flinched as a bolt of lightening streaked across the sky, swiftly followed by the roar of thunder. Rebecca stopped dead in her tracks and pointed a shaking hand to the north. Jean peered in that direction and her jaw dropped.

A large, humanoid figure stood in the distant north, arms folded across its chest. Illuminated by the constant lightening bolts, the man was clad in classic Greek hoplite armour and a cape. Jean felt a chill go up her spine as she saw the figure's dark, broody face lock on to her even from that distance.

"I think he knows where we are." Jean said hoarsely.

"Crap." was all Rebecca said as the distant figure of the Heretic God Poseidon started to advance towards them in slow, purposeful strides. He had to be the size of the Scott Monument in Edinburgh, at least 200 feet high and almost as broad. His bearded and weatherworn face was a stark contrast to the finely crafted armour that he wore. Every step he took made the ground tremble and it took this realisation to get Jean to snap out of her petrifaction.

"Rebecca! Let's run!" she called to the witch.

"R-right!" she responded shakily.

The two went over a fence and started running across the fields in an effort to get away from the approaching deity. Rebecca, clearly not used to all this exercise business, started panting and slowing down after a very short sprint.

"I'm…a…damn…librarian!" she panted out, "Why…the…hell…am I…running around…like this?!"

"Shut up and run!" Jean barked, "If you have the breath to bitch, you have the breath to run!"

"Easy…for you…to say!" Rebecca shot back. It was true. Jean was barely winded.

"I keep in shape, not sit on my ass all day!" the redhead retorted, "Now shut it and MOVE!"

They were shocked when they heard the Sea God speak in a rough voice that resonated across the entire Isle of Iona.

"**Halt, mortals!"** Poseidon boomed, **"Thou art trapped on this isle by my mere presence. None shall leave 'til I hast seized what belongs to me!"**

The two girls were shaken by this flat proclamation, to the point that they stopped running.

"**Harken unto me, for twas' two millennia ago that I was last in this mortal plane."** the Sea God said as he approached, **"I was most brutally assailed by a God Slayer of frightening power and ambition. Yea, our battle was fierce, to the point that I was sundered of my power not once, not twice, but thrice! Yet I triumphed over my foe and most soundly defeated him. It was then that I struck up on an idea. I sealed my three sundered powers into the guise that ye have concealed on your person, ye woman of red hair."**

"The Grimoires…" Jean whispered.

"**Aye, that is what ye mortals refer to them as."** Evidently, Poseidon had excellent hearing, **"By sealing my powers in such a fashion and ensuring that they were concealed behind the most cunning spells, I was guaranteed to revive myself when someone of the blood of mages, who yet had no skill in mage craft, undid the seal. To ensure that it would be undisturbed by the God Slayer's of that time, I commanded a powerful witch who dwelled in Athens to bind it so it would be unnoticed for at least a millennia."**

"Why…why would you do such a thing, Lord Poseidon?" Rebecca shouted in confusion, "Why would you allow yourself to be so weakened?"

"**I am one of the strongest Sons of Kronos!"** Poseidon replied, stating a fact, **"Even bereft of three of my avatars, I am still more powerful than any mere God Slayer or any other God or Goddess who has manifested in the mortal realm, then or now. Sadly, I was overwhelmed by two God Slayers working in concert not three days after mine powers were sealed. But now I am back and ready to reabsorb all that is me once again."**

"What will you do if I hand them over to you?" Jean asked, turning to face the Heretic God and stare him in the eyes.

"**I shall chase down all of the God Slayers of this era and smite them!"** Poseidon declared, **"To a God, the God Slayers are an unnatural occurrence that must be slain for the good of the world. Now then, woman, hand over my avatars!"**

"No." Jean said firmly.

The grizzled face above her took on an expression of astonishment at being refused by a mortal. Rebecca looked as if she might be on the verge of a heart attack herself.

Then, Poseidon did something that neither of the girls expected; he started to laugh uproariously.

"**Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"** the Sea God seemed to be more than slightly amused by this turn of events, **"I can tell, mortal that you dislike being constrained by others. Your eyes declare your strength of spirit. Very well then. If thy will not hand over what is mine willingly, I shall take them by force! Do you accept my challenge, wench?"**

"Aye." Jean nodded, "I don't seem to have much choice in the matter."

"**Excellent! It has been an age since I have had any entertainment!"** Poseidon declared, **"As the challenger, I set the time and place. I choose yonder small isle in one hour's time. As the challenged party, ye would normally set the weapons, but I see thou hast none. As I am well known for my generosity, here!"**

At a gesture, a pair of swords appeared in front of them that looked like Leonidas's Spartans at the Battle of Thermopylae might have once wielded them.

"**Appear at the northern shore an hour hence and I shall bear ye across to our battleground."** the Sea God declared before he faded to nothing.

Jean wobbled and fell to her knees, all of the tension leaving her all at once now that Poseidon had left.

"What were you _thinking_?" Rebecca asked her in a trembling voice, "You've just condemned us to be killed by a Heretic God!"

"I condemned _myself_ to being killed by a Heretic God." Jean corrected, "He challenged me, not you. Hell, he barely acknowledged that you were here."

Rebecca snorted in a very unladylike way. "If you seriously think I'm going to let you fight alone, you have another thing coming." she said with a humourless chuckle, "Now let's see these swords…"

The witch pulled one from the ground and examined it. "Hmmm…a Kopis." she mused, "that other one is a Xiphos."

"It's not as heavy as I'd expect." Jean remarked as she drew it from the ground. The Xiphos was a double-edged blade just under two feet long, forged from Damascus steel, judging by the distinctive ripple pattern on the blade.

"It would be stupid to have a sword that you can't wield easily." Rebecca pointed out, "Most blades forged nowadays are cheap replicas and display weapons; these are the real deal, forged to kill."

The curved blade in Rebecca's hand was slightly longer than Jean's weapon and the lightening flashing off it made it look deadly.

"This sucks." Rebecca bemoaned, "Mortal weapons have no hope of harming a God! Why did that irresponsible idiot Alec have to gallivant around the world now of all times? We're going to die!"

"Even if we did win, you or I would become a Campione." Joan pointed out, "And I doubt you'd like that."

"I really don't want to die, so I think I could handle you being a Campione." the brunette replied dryly, "You certainly are a child of Epimetheus though; you challenged Poseidon without thinking about it, didn't you?"

"I…suppose so." Jean said hesitantly, "I just hated the way he spoke down to me, like I was so far beneath his consideration that I was a farm animal or something."

"Generally, Heretic Gods regard mages as useful tools at best and irritating nuisances at worst." Rebecca told her with a shrug, "That is one of the only advantages we mages have against them, their hubris. Of course, that advantage is lost once they determine that a mage is actually a threat."

Jean chuckled. "Then we'd better come up with a plan to make him take us seriously." she said, "If I'm going to die, it's going to be from a serious attack, not him treating it like a game."

_**One Hour Later…**_

_**The Northern Shore of Iona**_

Jean and Rebecca stood on the shore and watched the waves crash against the craggy rocks that made up the 'beach' on the northern side of Iona.

_Eilean Annraidh_, the Isle of Storms, was a fairly small island that sat a short distance away from Iona. The outer edge of the small island was rocky and rough, while what little earth that the isle had was covered in thin, stubborn grass that refused to die.

"An arena." Rebecca muttered, "That's what it is, an arena."

"Likely." Jean agreed, "He'll have to shrink down to our size to fight us because there isn't much room to manoeuvre on the island."

The redhead planted the sword's point into the rock lightly and waited for the Sea God to appear. She was calm on the outside, but internally, she was wondering if she was insane. Here she was, an ordinary girl who had only just discovered the world of magic that had been hidden from view, about to step up and fight a god.

'_Insane or not…this ought to be interesting._' she thought as the tumultuous water abruptly flowed to one side, revealing the sea floor.

"I think we're being invited across." Rebecca remarked.

"Well then, let's not be rude." Jean picked up her sword and led the way. Over the rocks they went and then through the newly made path through the sea. It reeked of old seaweed and damp, but it was also fascinating to see the water rippling like this. It was almost like that time she was at the Sea Life Centre, watching the sea life swim from the other side of glass.

As the two girls reached the small island that was their destination, the sea rushed back to fill the corridor that had given them passage to the island.

"You could have just given me the other sword and left." Jean observed to Rebecca, "You still had time to do that before we walked through the passage."

"Like I could let a novice who can't even cast a simple candle-lighting cantrip fight a Heretic God alone." the witch scoffed, "Get ready…I think-"

Before Rebecca could finish her warning, the sea on the opposite side of the island parted with a roar and a massive throne made of red sea coral rose from the opening. Lounged on the throne was Poseidon, in all his glory.

"**Greetings, mortals."** the god rumbled, **"I am glad to see that you have the courage to face me."**

"I am a woman of my word." Jean said evenly, "Now then, shall we start the challenge?"

"**Firstly, there must be proof that ye can truly fight."** the Sea God said and waved his hand. Two blurs leapt from the ocean and landed on the island.

"**These are Tritons, descendents of my son and Herald, Triton."** Poseidon explained airily, **"Ordinarily, they disdain walking upon Mother Gaia, but I have given them orders to engage in combat with ye, so they have taken full human form to do battle with ye."**

The pair of Tritons regarded Jean and Rebecca disdainfully. Their hair looked like long strands of sea-green kelp, with skin like that of sharks. Their legs, which they were clearly not comfortable with, looked like the separated halves of a dolphin's tail.

Their weapons did not really come as much of a surprise to the women. Clasped in their hands were tridents, the symbol of their progenitor. Made of what looked like sea coral, the tri-points of the polearm weapons looked as sharp as any metal one could be, if not more so.

"So we have to fight these two before you, Lord Poseidon?" Rebecca asked.

"**Indeed. Fight them and survive for a mere five minutes and you will have earned the right to face me in combat and die by my hand."** Poseidon confirmed. He spoke as if he was telling them that if they woke up in the morning, the sun would rise. He had absolutely no doubts about what would happen if he fought the two women. It made Jean really pissed when she thought about it.

"Fine then." she growled angrily, "If I'm going to be killed this day, it will not be by the hands of a pair of flunkeys like these!"

"How spirited." one of the Tritons rasped out, "Human women have become very uppity in the past two millennia, haven't they?"

"Quite." the other agreed with a watery chuckle, "Time to show them their place, wouldn't you agree?"

Jean wasn't happy with the chauvinistic comments but restrained herself from pre-emptively striking at them. The watching deity might not like his entertainment spoiled.

"Are these guys mortal or immortal?" she muttered to Rebecca.

"They _should_ only be mortal." the witch replied, "But they are trained warriors. They have experience and reach over us."

"**Prepare thyself, fledgling mage and witch of Home and Hearth, for combat!"** Poseidon declared.

The two raised their blades warily in a guard position, whereas the Tritons merely looked bored, like the two girls were not worth their time.

If Jean was honest, she knew that even if the odds were two on one in their favour, they were not a match for the Sons of Triton. Even as completely inexperienced in combat as she was, she could tell that the two had the aura of experienced soldiers.

Still, she wasn't going to roll over and die just because of that. She was Jean Campbell, damn it!

"**Let the combat commence!"** Poseidon declared.

"Time to spank the bad girls." the first Triton remarked to the other one.

"Yep." the second one agreed…then they both _moved_, at such a speed Jean could barely keep up with them. One executed a strong stab at Rebecca, while the second swiped at Jean, aiming to use blunt force trauma to lay her low.

Knowing that her opponent was likely far stronger than her, Jean dropped low, feeling the coral trident graze her hair as it passed over her head, before launching a clumsy stab at the fish man's abdomen.

"Whoa!" he yelped as he dodged to one side, "What kind of mage _are_ you?!"

"One who has only used her powers once!" Jean snarled as she slashed at the Triton with the Xiphos, forcing him to block it with the haft of his three-pronged spear.

Rebecca was having a bit more of a problem as she had been nicked by one of the prongs on her opponent's weapon. Moving violently was not an option as it made her side feel like someone was rubbing salt into the wound, so she tried to use absolute economy of movement, avoiding the increasingly rapid thrusts of the Triton at the last second. She was now thankful her mother had given in to her grandmother's urging and signed her up for ballet lessons as a child.

She had only attended for four years, but it was still rather amusing to see the look of utter frustration on her opponent's face as she pirouetted away from his attack and scratched his skin with the Kopis was worth every moment of practice.

"What kind of wenches are you?!" the one fighting Jean was shouting as he fended off another sword slash that was aimed at disembowelling him.

"Modern women, you Bronze Age chauvinistic pig!" Jean snarled.

"Hoi! I need that!" he yelped as the next sword slash came very close to making him the world's first fishman eunuch, "Crazy bitch!"

"Crazy? Ohhhhhh, now you're in for it!"

On the other side of the island, Rebecca was getting tired, while the Triton seemed to become more frustrated with every stab of his trident.

"Stay still!"

"Hell no!" the brunette snapped back, "You stay still!"

The Triton lazily batted away another swipe of her Kopis with his own weapon. "I don't need to move. You're so unskilled with the blade that all I need do is block."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at this and she drew her wand in a threatening manner that made the Triton eye her nervously.

"_**Disciples of Artemis, bestow upon me a worthy spear that I may smite my foes!**_" she incanted as she pointed her wand at the foe in question.

A Greek hoplite spear, a Doru, made of light appeared before her and hurtled at the fishman at a mild gesture from Rebecca's wand. The Triton leapt to pone side, but with another gesture of the witch's wand, the spear flipped around and shot at him again.

"Screw this!" the fishman growled and thrust his trident at the glowing leaf-bladed spear. In the collision, his weapon dissolved into shattered fragments of coral, much to his disbelief.

"Surrender." Rebecca said as she halted the spear a hair's breadth from his throat.

He raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "You got me, jeez! I'm gone."

Jean grinned as she saw the Triton that Rebecca just beat leap back into the sea with a hurried leap and back flip.

"Just you left!" she grinned at the lone fishman, who was, ironically enough, gaping like a landed mackerel at the sight of his friend's weapon being broken and his surrender.

"You…you have to be kidding me!" the Triton said in disbelief, "Our tridents are created by Lord Triton himself!"

"And my spear was created with the blessing of the Goddess of the Hunt." Rebecca said as she dismissed the spear with a tired wave of her wand, "The entirety of the spear is made from magic and blessed by Artemis, which easily beats the shred of power that your tridents possess. Jean, hurry up and beat him already."

"If I must, I must." Jean sighed dramatically as she lunged at the fishman, who caught her blade between the prongs of his trident and attempted to disarm her. A moment later, he wheezed in pure masculine agony as the redhead's knee smashed into his family jewels…at least, where they _would be _on a human.

"Huh…looks like when you're in human form, your equipment is external like a human's is." Rebecca noted in a clinical fashion as Jean knocked the swearing Triton's weapon from his hand and levelled the Xiphos at his throat.

"Surrender." Jean's voice was implacable.

"Go have sex with a horse, wench." the Triton sneered at her.

"How rude." Jean muttered as she slammed the flat of her blade on the side of the fish man's head, knocking him out.

"**Hmmm…very well done."** Poseidon murmured, **"It would seem that the world hath changed greatly in these long years if mere girls such as yourselves have such potential in combat."**

"I was on a sports team in High School." Jean shrugged.

"Four years of ballet lessons. Horrible." Rebecca added with a shudder.

The Sea God looked intrigued as he dismissed the Triton with a shake of his hand, the fishman turning to water and seeping into the ground.

"**Thou hast proven thy capabilities in battle."** Poseidon declared as he slowly stood from his throne, **"Thou art worthy to face me in battle and die by my hand. But first…"**

With another gesture, the box containing Poseidon's sealed powers in Grimoire form appeared before him, seemingly teleported from the bag on Jean's back.

"…**I shall reclaim all of my powers!"**

With that declaration, the Sea God grasped the box in his hands and, in a flash of light; the Heretic God Poseidon once more possessed all of his Divine Authorities.

"**Hahahahaha! To be whole once more is a heady thing!"** Poseidon guffawed heartily, **"For too long, I have been sundered. Now I am whole once again, the God Slayers of this era shall fall before me like wheat before a scythe!"**

"Damn it!" Rebecca hissed.

"**As it would be most unsporting of me to face ye in my great form, I shall equal ye in height."** the Sea God proclaimed. He glowed a pale yellow light before shrinking to the size of a well-built grown man, which was probably as small as he could go.

"Well, that makes it a great deal more fair." Jean sighed, "What about a weapon? Or are we so far beneath your contempt that you do not require one?"

"**You are not worthy to face my true ****Tríaina, so a simple trident will suffice."** the Sea God replied. He reached into empty space and then his hand briefly disappeared. He seemed to rummage around for a moment before drawing his hand back with a simple steel trident clasped within it, the kind fishermen would use back during the days of the Greek city-states.

"…Joy." The girls deadpanned in unison.

"**Let the combat begin!"**

With that shout, Poseidon charged at them even faster than the Tritons had, the steel trident aimed towards Jean, who idly noted that the triple-pointed spear's points were definitely razor sharp as they drew ever closer to her.

"Rebecca, now!" she yelled as she started to run forwards to counter-charge Poseidon.

"_**Disciples of Hephaestus, bestow upon me a worth shield to guard me from mine foes!**_" the Hearth Witch incanted, sweat beading her bow as she used quite a bit of her magic for this spell. It was unlikely to do more than slow the Sea God down, but it was the best defensive spell in her, admittedly limited, repertoire.

In front of the Sea God, a large circular shield materialised. Made of enamelled bronze and embossed with the hammer symbol of the crippled Smith God, it floated between the two opposing sides as if to bar the Heretic God access to his opponents.

"**Such a low-level spell will not stop me!"** Poseidon bellowed as he drew the trident he wielded back and then thrust it at the shield.

In a flash of light, the shield shattered and dissolved into nothing, the minor defence spell proving utterly ineffective against the God of the Seas.

"_**[Tríaina!]**_" Jean bellowed in a voice full of pain. A golden trident shot out from her and impaled Poseidon in the stomach. The sharp gasp of shock, surprise and pain from the god signified that he had been taken completely off-guard.

"**H…how…?"** he growled as he slowly reached for his trident.

"Do you…_really_ think…that I'd keep…all of the Grimoires in…the same place?" Jean rasped as she staggered towards Poseidon. She grabbed the haft of the Divine Authority before the God could and pulled it out in a spray of golden Ichor, the divine blood of the gods and immortals, "An hour ago…not long after…you left, I…removed the Grimoire that bore…the symbol of the trident…and gave it to Rebecca."

"I then bound it with some very subtle spells to conceal it from your sight." the brunette witch continued as she walked next to Jean and helped steady her with one hand, "Individually; none of them were especially powerful. Even together, they would not conceal the location of the Grimoire if you **really** set your mind to finding it. What most of them did was conceal the _existence_ of the Grimoire, rather than your ability to find it. You were so arrogant that you never even _tried_ to determine if the box held all of your Authorities. This fight is your loss."

"**I…am…a GOD!"** Poseidon roared, making the island shake with his rage, **"Return my…Tríaina…at once!"**

"No…" Jean rasped. Her body was in agony from that sole use of the Grimoire. Rebecca had told her that in order to use a Grimoire, you had to have magic and you to know which Authority it contained and what that Authority did.

Knowing the name of that Authority allowed you to use it, rather than simply blast it at the opponent once.

To know what the Authority did was to know the details of what the powers accomplished once unleashed. To know the name of the Authority granted you the right to use it so long as it was bound to the Grimoire.

Rebecca had warned her that the Grimoire was only a container-type, not actually intended to be used as a medium to unleash the Authority it contained. There was every chance that the use of it would backfire and kill her without harming Poseidon, and they didn't even know the name of the Authority to begin with.

Tríaina. The Greek word for trident, which was the main symbol of Poseidon's power. When Poseidon had uttered that name, Jean had felt the Grimoire shake in her back pocket, where she had hidden it after Rebecca returned it to her.

The two girls had gambled everything on this plan and it seemed to have paid off. Poseidon had halted to deal with what he perceived as their last-ditch defence, when it was merely to obscure his sight of Jean while she drew out the Grimoire and invoked its power.

"**You dare to refuse a GOD!?"** Poseidon roared, **"You stand no chance against me, even with my Tríaina! I cannot be defeated by one of my own Authorities!"**

"Incorrect." Rebecca replied with a smirk, "The latest Campione of this time, Kusanagi Godō, slew the Persian God of War, Verethragna, with his own Authority, the **[Golden Sword]**. Granted, that blade had the ability to cut through the divinity of another God, but your **[Tríaina]** is an incredibly powerful weapon in its own right. I would say that it can end you...especially once I do this."

She turned Jean's head around and kissed her full on the lips, the magic of the teaching spell whirling around them as the glow from the golden trident redoubled in intensity. She poured every scrap of knowledge that she had on Poseidon in general, and the trident he bore in particular, into Jean's mind.

"**NOOOOOOO!"** Poseidon roared angrily. He would not have his divinity usurped! He _would not _be banished to the Realm of Divinity like a beaten dog! Not after he had just re-acquired most of his powers!

He charged towards the two girls, his steel trident drawn back and ready to rend the life from them in a single stab. He could feel the golden ichor seep from the wound in his stomach that refused to close. This added considerable weight to the brown-haired one's claims that he could be slain by his own weapon.

"**Die, Mortals!"** he roared, **"Return to nothing!"**

Jean raised the _**[Tríaina]**_ with one hand. Before Rebecca had passed her the lore of Poseidon, it had felt like she was trying to lift a length of granite. Now, the golden weapon felt like she was wielding a piece of balsa wood in her hands, it was so light!

"I…I will not lose to you!" Jean roared back as she stabbed at the charging Sea God with all of her remaining strength with the divine trident, which was met in midair by the Sea God's steel trident as he counterattacked.

The pressure Jean was under was immense. Every cell in her body was on fire, every muscle was screaming for it to end. Judging from the look of surprise and strain on Poseidon's face, he wasn't having an easy time of it either.

A smirk crawled its way across her face as she forced herself to push more against the Sea God's attack. Poseidon noticed her smile and was not pleased.

"**You dare sneer so at me? I am a god! You are a mere human! The rules of the world declare that I am the winner!"** the Sea God roared.

The Scottish girl's eyes narrowed at that statement. "In which case…I _reject_ that rule!" she shrieked as she put every last once of her being into one, final, effort to defeat Poseidon.

The _**[Tríaina] **_blazed with golden light as it broke the steel trident in Poseidon's hands, shattering it into scrap metal.

"**Impossible!"** was all Poseidon could say as, with a sickening sucking sound, all three prongs of his own Divine Trident pierced through his armoured chest with ease, the tips emerging from the skin in his back and the armour there with ease.

"…**Gah…ahhh…not…possible…"** wheezed the Sea God as he slumped to his knees, **"I…am a God…one of the strongest three Gods of Ancient Greece…how can a mere human…defeat me…with my own Authority…?"**

"I…refuse…to be bound…by rules." Jean croaked. She was dying. She could feel her body shutting down from using the Tríaina Grimoire twice, as well as putting most of her life force into that last attack. She would tell this god why he lost before she died, though!

"For…most of my life…I have been alone…my parents died…my aunt died…and the rules of this country tried to bind me…strip me of all that was mine…" Jean continued, "…I fought back…and refused to allow them to do so…and I refuse to die…to let the law that I must die when confronted with a god…come to pass."

"**Heh…"** Poseidon chuckled wetly, **"You truly are…like the sea…like me…the sea despises being bound…being forced to assume one shape…it is only right that you defeat me…I would say."**

The body of the Sea God glowed blue as he continued to speak, **"So be it. Mortal, I leave to you all that I am! Let nothing bind you ever again, until the day comes that I return to this world and challenge you as one King to Another!"**

In an explosion of light, the Heretic God Poseidon's body vanished, throwing both Jean and Rebecca onto their backs. The Witenagemot witch groaned as she pushed herself to her knees.

"Ouch, that smarted." she hissed, then looked over towards the unmoving body of Jean Campbell. Floating above her newfound friend's body was the trident of Poseidon, as well as four circles containing the symbols of Poseidon's power; a horse, a crack in the earth, waves of the sea and storm clouds.

"All…_all of them?!_" Rebecca whispered incredulously. Jean had obtained the _entirety_ of Poseidon's power? The only time this had happened before was when Kusanagi Godō had obtained all of Verethragna's power. It had been debated heatedly within the Witenagemot whether it was because he had such an accepting personality or if it was because all ten Avatars of Verethragna were in fact all a single Authority.

The five emblems of power vanished into Jean's body and made an ethereal golden glow play across it. The healing process that marked the start of all Campione's new lives was beginning.

Rebecca settled in to wait for Jean to awaken. She just wished that she wasn't on such a cold island to do so. Unfortunately, until Jean awakened, she was stuck here. What a day.

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_Unknown Location_

Jean groaned. Her body felt like she had just tried to pull a lorry with its handbrake on

"Hello there!" a bubbly voice chirped, making the redhead wince.

"Please…not so loud." she begged, "My head is aching…"

"Oh, I'm sorry." the voice apologised, "You really were reckless, though. There was barely anything of you left to bring here."

"Where…is 'here', exactly?" Jean asked. She cracked an eye open, saw only a bright white light and sighed, "Great, I'm having a whiteout for some reason."

"Nope." the bubbly voice replied cheerfully, "This is the Netherworld. You are a Campione now, so you aren't supposed to be here. That's why you can't see anything. The Netherworld is concealing itself from you."

"…it actually worked?" Jean asked, "I…didn't actually think it would."

"Uh-huh. It worked." the voice said softly, "And I have to thank you for doing what you did. You saved my seven children from being hurt or killed by Poseidon."

Feeling much better, Jean opened her eyes fully. In direct line of sight was a young girl with green eyes, purple hair in a twin tails style, pointed ears with round red earrings and an old-fashioned dress.

"Your…children?" Jean asked, "Who…are you?"

"I am Pandora, the All-Knowing Woman." the girl introduced herself, "And I am now your mother, Jean."

"…mother?" Jean asked, her head still feeling sluggish.

"Yup. I adopt every single Campione who is born." Pandora said with a slight pout, "But none of them ever call me 'Mama' or even acknowledge themselves as my children!"

'_Yikes, she looks like she's about to cry._' Jean thought mildly.

Aloud, she said, "It's been a decade since I've had a mother. It…would be nice to have one again…if you'll have me."

"…Of course I will!" the purple-haired goddess wailed happily and hugged her new daughter strongly. After Pandora had recovered herself sufficiently, she explained to Jean the common powers of a Campione; enhanced longevity, enhanced spiritual senses, magic resistance, superhuman stamina and durability, ability to learn languages very quickly, ludicrously high reserves of magic and predator-class night vision.

"Jeez, I sound like a regular monster." Jean remarked after her new mother had finished explaining things to her.

"You are no more a monster than Poseidon; you merely are what you are." Pandora remonstrated her firmly, "As my daughter, you must not think of yourself like that, alright?"

"Yes mother." Jean answered dutifully and had to smile at the sheer joy her adoptive mother showed whenever she called her that.

"When you return to your body, be careful with your Hearth Witch friend." Pandora cautioned Jean as the new Campione began to fade away, signalling that their time was at an end, "You will be stronger than her by a considerable margin and you might hurt her, so treat her like fine china."

"Got it." Jean nodded, "Do…do you have anything you would like me to do? As your daughter that is."

"Hmm…well, another Heretic God is due to appear in Southern France." Pandora mused, "You are the best person to face it, so if you could deal with it before anything happens, I'd like that. It'll also mean we can see each other again!"

"So every time I kill a Heretic God, I get to see you?" jean asked. At Pandora's nod, she smiled grimly, "It will be my pleasure to slay the Heretic God, Mother Pandora."

"Good girl!" Pandora patted her on the head with a smile before Jean faded away, leaving the Netherworld completely.

"Finally…!" Pandora was weeping happy tears, "A child of mine that actually _acknowledges me _as her mother…!"

"Hahahahaha! You sound happy, Pandora-san." a loud voice boomed boisterously. The small demigoddess turned around to see two beings standing where they had not been a second before.

One was a man with wild grey hair in a white kimono. His physique would put most bodybuilders to shame. The other being was a female wearing an old-fashioned and beautiful kimono, with brown hair and eyes as clear as glass.

"Susano'o, Princess with Glass Eyes." Pandora greeted them, "What brings you to my area of the Netherworld?"

"We felt the birth of your newest child." the woman replied, "From the fact you seem so overjoyed, might I ask if this one has finally fulfilled your long-held wish?"

"Yup!" Pandora's smile could have replaced the sun at this point, "Now all I have to do is work on making my youngest son more aware of his position and things will be going along nicely."

"Not likely to happen." the Tempestuous God of Storms and Valour snorted, "He's got his head so firmly entrenched in the sand that I'm amazed he eats anything apart from _sand_wiches."

The Princess smacked Susano'o on the arm. "He is merely unassuming about his power. I see no reason why he should be forced to assume his responsibilities when he is still a child."

"Because _**HE**_ is going to awaken soon." Pandora said seriously.

The other two deities exchanged looks. The King Who Manifests at World's End, Rama, awoke once every thousand years and usually wiped out every God Slayer in the world before returning to his slumber. The Divine Ancestor Guinevere had been searching for a way to revive him for centuries now.

"That pain-in-the-ass lazybones." Susano'o grumbled. He had been forced into the Netherworld the _last _time Rama had gone on his self-proclaimed 'peacekeeping' tour of the world.

"I see…" the Ancestress of all Hime-Miko whispered, "I will concede that that is a reasonable justification for beating some sense into your wayward son. What will you do?"

"My youngest daughter is a dutiful child." Pandora replied with a proud set to her body as she talked about Jean, "She will seek out Heretic Gods in order to see me; I saw that much of her before she left. Once she has acquired a few Authorities, I will send her to 'educate' Godō. I will _not_ lose my children to Rama again!"

The determination in the demigoddess's voice was palpable, making Susano'o chuckle.

"Yeah, well I owe the bastard one for forcing me to live here for the last millennia, so you can count me in." he said.

"And it wouldn't happen to have _anything_ to do with the fact that your adopted granddaughter will likely be killed if the boy doesn't do anything?" The Princess with Glass Eyes asked slyly, making the god huff and ignore her.

"My three strongest descendents are gathered near Kusanagi-kun." the Ancestress said to Pandora seriously, "Ena-chan, Yuri-chan and Hikari-chan. If you instruct your daughter not to harm them, I will give my blessing to this plan."

"Do you really think those three will just sit back and let my children fight?" Pandora asked rhetorically, "No, they won't. I will not have my daughter hamstrung by such a restriction. As a compromise, Susano'o can take them to his section of the Netherworld, along with my sons other two mistresses, for the duration of the fight. Is this acceptable?"

"Very well." the Princess replied, "Now then…who do you think your son will father children with first?"

The serious talk over, the three deities began to gossip.

**CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC**

Across the world, seven individuals looked up sharply as a feeling of power was born into the world once again.

An elderly man with glowing green eyes gave a wolf-like smile as a new prey appeared to alleviate his boredom.

A black haired-beauty atop a mountain sensed a new opponent.

Stumbling out of a portal, a middle-eastern woman looked up in surprise before she was drawn through another portal.

Speeding from an island, a black-haired youth frowned as he felt someone powerful in his domain.

Sitting at a café, a young woman almost dropped her coffee as her head swivelled to the east.

A blond-haired young man who was fishing merely smiled joyfully as he sensed someone he could spar with appear.

Finally, a black-haired Japanese boy sat up in shock. His eyes were wide and he didn't understand what he was feeling.

"A…Campione…" he whispered, "Another Campione has been born."

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**Next Chapter: Alec, the Black Prince**

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	3. Alec, The Black Prince

**Author's Note: Yo. Chapter 3 here.**

**To the guest Reviewer called 'Guest N': I will put up a list when all the restrictions have been revealed, not before.**

**I'm not sure but I think Alec is a bit OOC in this, so let me know how I've done.**

**Read, Review and check out my other stories!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Campione!**

"Godō" - Regular Speech

'_My Everyday life__…__!_' - Thoughts

"**God Slayer!****"** - Heretic God/Powered Up Campione speech

"_**Fire!**_" - Magic/Authority Use

**Chapter 3: Alec, The Black Prince**

_Eilean Annraidh, Iona_

Jean came to slowly, as if she had been asleep for some time. Her eyes flicked open and she remembered…Poseidon…using the Grimoire…dying…Mother Pandora…

She was a Campione.

"Jean?" Rebecca said as she leaned over her, a look of relief on her face, "Thank Hera. How do you feel?"

"Different." Jean temporised, "What happened after Poseidon exploded? I died then, I think."

"You did." Rebecca nodded, "I blacked out for a minute as well. I awoke just in time to see Poseidon's Authorities enter you and start to heal your body. You've been out of it for over an hour."

"Felt like a lot longer." Jean remarked as she sat up, "Huh…I was expecting my body to feel sore or something after what I put it through."

"Divine Healing is apparently far better than any kind of mage healing." the Hearth Witch said, "Now, I'm sorry for my impertinence, my King, but could you get us off this rock and back to Iona? I'm freezing here!"

"Eh? Oh…sorry." Jean apologised before she asked, "Why are you calling me a King? I'm female."

"All Campione are referred to as Kings, regardless of gender." Rebecca shrugged, "It doesn't help that eight tenths of Campione have been male."

"I'm not sure whether to be angry at the gender inequality, or pleased that it doesn't matter if you are male or female." Jean said bemusedly, "Anyway, I'll have to have a look at the Authorities I have. Which ones did I get?"

"All of them." Rebecca said.

"But…but you said that the rule was generally one Authority per Heretic God!" Jean said in disbelief.

"The Goddess Pandora is the one who decides such things." Rebecca said with a shrug, "It looks like she took Poseidon's last declaration to heart and gifted you with all that was Poseidon."

"Mother Pandora…" Jean smiled, "Looks like she was happier than I thought. Right. I need to think for a moment."

She closed her eyes and focussed within herself. She felt…five pieces of power. Five separate Authorities. Rebecca was right; Poseidon had given all that he was to her.

She pictured herself turned to the first Authority, a shining golden trident. The need to name the Authority came over her, which puzzled her. It already had a name, _**[Tríaina]**_.

With that, the odd feeling left her. Mentally shrugging, she turned her attention to what looked like a massive mural of a wave. She got a deluge of feelings from it. Changeable tides, mastery of water and those who dwell in it, breathing underwater and creation of water from nothing.

"_**[Master of the Oceans]**_" she decided.

The next mural was of a rearing horse. This time she got the impression of a steed charging across the battlefield, a Pegasus flying through the air and obedience to the one who created them.

"_**[Lord of Horses]**_ seems appropriate here." Jean muttered.

The third mural was of a large crack in the earth. She saw images of trembling land, crumbling buildings and widespread ruin.

"Yikes…not going to use this one if I can avoid it…_** [Earthshaker] **_it is." Jean said with a trembling sigh.

As she turned to the final mural, she felt the turbulent tumult of the gathered clouds, raging seas and shrieking winds that drive ships aground on rocks.

"_**[Stormbreaker]**_." Jean decided. She opened her eyes and beckoned Rebecca to follow her to the edge of the small island.

"Did you figure out your Authorities?" Rebecca asked.

"Yeah." Jean replied with a frown, "In order to actively use my Authorities of storm, earthquake, ocean or horse, I have to first have my _**[Tríaina]**_ Authority out. That's the first restriction that all four share."

The newest Campione held out her hand and intoned, "_**Oh Golden Trident, come forth and serve your Master, in the name of the Oceans!**_"

The familiar golden trident appeared in her outstretched hand, this time sized to fit her perfectly, rather than for a man the size of Poseidon's smallest form.

"Wow…" Rebecca looked at Jean with a bit of surprise, "Normally, it takes a Campione a while to be able to reliably call upon their powers."

"That's because _they_ all deny their relationship with Mother Pandora." Jean replied, "_I_, on the other hand, have accepted _who_ and _what_ I am fully, so I do not have to fight my powers for control."

She dipped the tip of the golden trident into the water in front of her and said, "By my will, let the waters part!"

With a roar, the water between Iona and _Eilean Annraidh_ parted fully, leaving a wide passage for the two girls to walk to Iona.

"…OK, so I _do_ need to work on my control." Jean admitted, "But reaching for my powers isn't an issue."

"Clearly." Rebecca drawled dryly.

They crossed the expanse of previously water-covered ground, keeping to the rocks so they didn't have to wade through the muddy sand/mud/slime that coated the bottom of the sea. Once they were across, Jean commanded, "Let the water return!", which prompted the seawater to rush back in.

With a smile, Jean dismissed her _**[Tríaina]**_ and looked on in satisfaction as the water was restored to its previous level.

"Hell, yeah." she smirked before she turned around and started walking.

"Great. We have to walk across the _entire damn island _to get to a warm bath." Rebecca grumbled, "Just peachy."

_One Cold Walk Later…_

_Jean's House_

"Brrr…I hate the cold." Rebecca grumbled as she entered the house, followed by a rather amused Jean.

"You English people are surprisingly fragile." she observed, "Unusual Deity-created storms aside, this is a fairly normal day in Scotland."

"Normal?!" Rebecca shuddered before she paused. "Didn't we turn the lights off when we left?"

Jean's eyes narrowed. "Yes we did."

"If you two will just come in, we can dispense with the suspicions." a male voice called from the living room.

Rebecca went white. "L…Lord Alec?!"

"Great, the thief." Jean grumbled as she made her way into her living room, to find a black-haired young man lounging indolently on her sofa. He had the appearance of a sixteen-year-old boy with an almost feminine look about him as he regarded Jean with a speculative gaze.

"So, you are the new Campione." he mused, "Dare I hope that you are not a barbarian like the rest?"

"You are hardly one to talk about other people being barbarians when you break into other people's homes, brother." Jean replied with an ironic tone to her voice. Rebecca stood docilely next to her, her head bowed as the two Campione began to talk.

"'Brother'? Why do you refer to me as such?" Alec cocked an eyebrow at Jean inquisitively.

"We are both Campione; thus we are adopted children of Mother Pandora." Jean replied bluntly, "Thus we are adoptive siblings by extension."

"Oh. Her." Alec sighed, "Such a tiresome woman. Constantly trying to get me to call her 'Mama'."

"You have bad empathy with women, don't you?" Jean observed as she sat on her father's seat, "Well, that's hardly the point. Why are you here and why did you force entry into my property?"

"I am a Campione; I go where I please and fulfil my desires when I am working on behalf my organisation, Royal Arsenal." Alec replied, "As to the purpose of my visit…I am curious as to how long you intend to remain in Britain."

"Scotland is my home." Jean replied with steel in her voice, "And a man with the nickname that sounds like one a Gigolo would have will _not_ dictate where I may or may not reside."

"I _beg_ your pardon?!" Alec looked taken aback.

"'Black Prince Alec'." Jean quoted, "It sounds like a nickname one would give to a Gigolo."

"It is a name given to me because of one of my Authorities, I'll have you know." Alec replied coolly, "The point I am _trying_ to make here is that Campione try to keep as much distance between one another as possible. The two who live closest together are that fool Salvatore Doni and the old wolf Marquis Voban. Doni lives in Italy most of the time and Voban keeps to the Balkans mostly."

"I see." Jean said neutrally, "And you wouldn't happen to be trying to force me out because you do not wish to have competition for Britain, I'm sure."

"I have been the Campione of Britain for fourteen years." Alec said firmly, "I like this island because it means few Heretic Gods descend here and thus very few Campione visit it. I would therefore very much appreciate it if you would vacate Britain."

"As it so happens, Mother Pandora has given me a task to accomplish and I will be leaving Britain for a while once I have readied this place for habitation." Jean replied coldly, "Once that task is complete, I will return to finish my education and I will brook _no_ interference from you or your little band of stage magicians. Should you prove obdurate, I shall respond with the appropriate amount of force."

Jeans dislike for Alec was fairly high at this moment due to his arrogant assumption that he could order her around as he liked. Granted, he must have more than a couple of Divine Authorities after fourteen years as a Campione and had experience with deadly fights to the death, but he was rubbing her in almost the exactly wrong way and she was reacting instinctively.

"Oh?" Alec drawled slowly, "And what has that woman asked you to do?"

"That would be…exactly none of your business." Jean replied firmly, "Now, you are not welcome in my house any longer, so kindly take yourself out before I call the local police."

The disbelief on Alec's face was priceless. She would guess that no one had dared use such a mundane threat on him, ever. In fact, she was betting that Alec hadn't had to deal with someone he couldn't intimidate or outwit in some way or other in quite some time.

"…I see you are cut from the same cloth as the others." Alec sighed.

"No, you are merely deluding yourself as to your own self." Jean corrected him, "You are a Campione, and therefore you are a tyrant. It really is as simple as that and no amount of self-deceit will change that fact."

Alec looked at her before sighing and standing up. "Honestly. Well, I'll be on my way. Do you want me to take the Witenagemot Witch back to London for you?"

He gestured at Rebecca, who squeaked at being singled out by Alec.

"No. She said she would assist me in restoring my home." Jean said firmly, "I'll be escorting her back to the Presidium myself once I have finished my business here."

"As you like it." Alec shrugged as he waltzed out the door. Jean waited until she heard the front door close before sighing in relief.

Rebecca collapsed to her knees. That was scary. The amount of magic that the two of them had been putting out subconsciously had been off the charts; far more than she had ever dreamed of possibly being exposed to.

"That…was the scariest experience I have ever had, with the exception of confronting that Heretic God." the Hearth Witch gasped.

"Sorry." Jean apologised, "He really rubbed me the wrong way."

"Not surprising." Rebecca replied with a shaky laugh, "He was attacking the personality trait you possess that governs the theme of your Authorities."

"Huh?"

"Each Campione has a dominant trait that determines how the Authorities they gain will change when they receive them." Rebecca explained, "Lord Alec's trait is that of a thief, thus all of his traits are those to do with infiltration, trapping, and high-speed escape."

"Oh…" Jean was intrigued by this titbit of information, "What would you say mine would be?"

"Control." Rebecca replied immediately, "You despise having control wrested from you. Rules that try and bind you make you rebel against them. All the Authorities you gain will have an aspect that grants you as much control over them as possible."

Jean thought about it. What Rebecca said was quite true. _**[Master of the Oceans]**_ granted her hydrokinetic powers and dominion over sea creatures. _**[Lord of Horses]**_ allowed her to command anything that took the shape of an equine. _**[Earthshaker]**_ gave her the power to create and, to a limited degree, control earthquakes within a limited area. _**[Stormbreaker]**_ allowed her to create and control storms, with the restriction that they had to be on or about the ocean. All of those required her to use her _**[Tríaina]**_ Authority to be active in order to be used, which also granted her speed, strength and the knowledge of how to fight with a trident.

Oh, she also had some lesser powers from her Authorities that didn't require the _**[Tríaina]**_ in order to be used. She could breath water thanks to _**[Master of the Oceans]**_, communicate with horses thanks to _**[Lord of Horses]**_ and detect the weather at sea accurately thanks to _**[Stormbreaker]**_, but the combat powers all required the golden trident in order to be used first.

"That makes sense." Jean agreed after considering everything, "Well, thanks for the information. What do you plan to do now?"

"Eh?" was Rebecca's reaction.

"You have completed your objective in investigating mysterious magical emanations." Jean pointed out, "This means you are free to return to London whenever you wish. I just said that you were to help me to get rid of the thief."

"So…if I wanted to ship out on the ferry tomorrow, you'd let me?" Rebecca prodded.

"Sure." Jean said with a shrug.

"I gave my word I'd help you with this house if you helped me." the witch said, "And I am true to my word. Though I think starting tomorrow would be preferable. I'm tired."

"Agreed." Jean yawned, "I'll get the guestroom ready; you go and draw yourself a bath."

"With pleasure." Rebecca said with feeling.

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_The Next Day, 12:00pm_

_Jean's Garden…_

"_**I call upon Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture, and Persephone, Goddess of Vegetation, the **__**Karpophoroi. Restore this garden to its former glory!**_" Rebecca incanted.

In a burst of golden-brown light, the tangled, overgrown grass shortened, becoming neat and tidy as if it had been freshly mown. The dead flowers sprouted and the weeds shrivelled up as if they had been sprayed with weed killer.

In a matter of moments, the front garden of the cottage was looking as good as new. Jean shook her head in amazement. She had seen her new friend use magic all morning, but no matter how many times she saw it, she was still amazed at how useful magic was.

"I so need to learn some magic." the newest Campione remarked.

"You can do so easily; a Campione has vastly superior magical reserves that can be used for regular magic as well as your Authorities, although most Campione don't bother." Rebecca replied.

"Why?" Jean asked curiously.

"Two main reasons." Rebecca held up two fingers before dropping one, "First, their Authorities are vastly more powerful than any spell created by the hands of mortals, so learning combat magic would be pointless."

Jean nodded to show she was following.

"Second reason." the witch dropped the last finger, "Sheer laziness. Almost all Campione have Mage Associations that see to their day-to-day needs, so why bother learning household magic if you have people to do it for you?"

"The first one makes sense. The second is plain stupid." Jean frowned, "Even with the first reason, I can see a logical flaw in the argument. If we don't have to resort to using our Authorities automatically, the more flexible we become in combat."

"True enough, but the main opponents of Campione are Heretic Gods and Divine Beasts, which are immune to mortal magic." Rebecca replied thoughtfully, "So it does kind of make sense if you think about it like that."

"And for things like the Tritons?" Jean pointed out, "Or even regular Knights or mages that might attack their organisations? Using Authorities on _them_ is a serious case of overkill."

"True enough." Rebecca acknowledged, "But it would be a _very_ foolish collection of mages who would assault a Mage Association led by a Campione. Suicidal even."

"I'm still going to learn some magic." Jean vowed, "I dislike the idea of having servants; this is the twenty-first century for crying out loud."

"I can teach you a little if you would like." Rebecca offered, "We don't even have to worry about getting a focus for you because the entirety of a Campione's body is a conduit for magic."

"Sounds good." Jean nodded, "I'll have to head to France soon, so the lessons will have to be short."

"France? Why France?" Rebecca asked.

"Mother Pandora told me that another heretic God is due to appear in Sothern France that I am apparently the best person to oppose." Jean replied, "She requested that I take care of it."

"You…you actually REMEMBER your time in the Netherworld?!" Rebecca gaped at Jean in disbelief, "No Campione ever remembers more than a fraction of what is said there!"

"Again, it's because they continually deny their relationship with Mother Pandora." Jean said with a shrug, "She is our link to the Netherworld. The stronger our relationship with her, the more we will remember. I call her my mother and I acknowledge that I am her adopted daughter, so currently my relationship is the best out of my fellow Campione, if Thief Boy is anything to go by."

Rebecca shook her head at such a casual dismissal of the Black Prince. "I wouldn't talk about him like that if I were you." she warned Jean, "Especially in London. His Royal Arsenal has mages and associates from all walks of life and if they don't realise you're a Campione, they'll attack first and ask questions later."

"So…bully boys who are conceited because their leader is a Campione?" Jean snorted in disgust.

"Not always." Rebecca admitted, "I'm…more than slightly biased against the Royal Arsenal, because the Witenagemot has a sort of standing rivalry with Lord Alec's organisation. We are mostly what one might call a mutual help society rather than a proper Mage Association. We are noble families, wealthy Alchemists, Royal descendants, those who know of magic but cannot use it…a wide variety of people. Our primary purpose is to monitor Campione and try to decipher and record their Authorities."

"In case they go nuts, I take it?" Jean probed, "So you can steer another Campione into defeating that one and give them enough information to be able to beat the mad one."

"It has never been recorded that a Campione can go insane." Rebecca replied, "Pandora controls the Authority bestowment, so I doubt she would let someone gain Authorities who was mentally unstable. Anyway, you said a Heretic God is going to descend there?"

"In Southern France, yes." Jean nodded, "Precisely _where_ in southern France I do not know. For all I know, it could be on Corsica."

"If you are the best person to face it, the God in question is probably another Sea God." Rebecca speculated, "Alternatively, it could be a Fire God, which your Authorities would be useful against."

"If it's a Sea God, the Southern Coast or Corsica is the most likely candidates." Jean remarked, "That means the French Provinces of Languedoc-Roussillon and Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur, as well as the isle of Corsica."

"Knowing your luck, it's probably on Corsica." Rebecca sighed, "Well, I'll book the plane tickets when we get to London. I'll have to contact the French Mage Association in Southern France as well."

"How many Mage Associations are there?" Jean asked curiously.

"Usually at least one per Country, except for the smaller ones like Andorra and Luxembourg, which rarely have more than a couple of Mages in total." Rebecca replied, "France has two. One in the northern area, La Fraternité de la Nuit Noire, and one in the southern area, L'Ordre de Épées Croisées."

"The Brotherhood of the Night Sky and the Order of Crossed Swords." Jean translated, "Will there be any problems with them?"

"I honestly couldn't say." Rebecca admitted, "The only Campione they have had contact with is Salvatore Doni, the King of Swords. He is…a _true_ Child of Epimetheus, an utter _idiot_ who does as he pleases and causes more destruction than most Campione. Why, not long ago in Italy, he destroyed a Grimoire called the Heranion and caused the descent of not only a Divine Beast in the shape of a Dragon, but the Heretic God Perseus. It took the newest Campione, Kusanagi, quite a while to beat him."

"Why?" Jean asked.

"Perseus was an amalgamation of several gods, including one that negated most of Kusanagi's ten Authorities." Rebecca replied.

"TEN!?" Jean yelped, "_Ten Authorities?!_"

"Actually, it is debated as to whether they are ten _separate_ Authorities or a single Authority that can take ten _different forms_." the Witenagemot witch added with a grin, "Anyway, Doni was the one who eventually slew a weakened Perseus, thus gaining no Authorities, as Pandora dislikes dishonourable conduct like that. The point is that the Order of Crossed Swords will have very little reason not to believe that all Campione are like Doni."

"Great." Jean sighed, and then remembered something Rebecca had said earlier, "Wait, did you say ticket_s_?"

"Don't you _want_ me to come along?" Rebecca asked.

"…I thought you wanted to return to your Hearth?" Jean asked after a moment.

"Oh, I do." Rebecca replied, "But you need someone to help you navigate the politics of the Mage Associations and the like. Besides, I want to make sure you don't terrorise people unnecessarily like Doni or Voban."

"And Voban is who now?" Jean asked, "I gather he is a Campione, but who is he?"

"Marquis Voban, the King of the Balkans." Rebecca said with a shudder, "The oldest Campione alive today, at over three-hundred. His dominating trait is that of Tyrant and Hunter. He is…ruthless. _No one _crosses him due to his ability to enslave the knights he slays with his Authority _**[Death Ring]**_."

"Brrr…" the newest Campione shivered at that, "Right. Stay out of the Balkans if at all possible. Noted. Right."

"A wise decision, my King." Rebecca bowed, "Might I suggest that avoiding other Campione in general would be a wise decision until you gain experience with doing battle with your Authorities?"

"Sounds good. And stop calling me King." Jean said with a frown, "Just call me Jean already."

"As you wish." Rebecca smirked at the irritation in Jean's body language, "Seriously though, you will have to act the part of a King. People will call you a king and act deferentially towards you; at least once it becomes known you are a Campione."

"Groupies, toadies and brownnosers." Jean grumbled, "Great. Well, we've just about gotten everything sorted out here. All that needs to be done is to trim the hedge a bit and then hire someone to do the gardening every once in a while and we're done here…now, where did Dad keep those pruning shears…?"

After finding the shears (and having to oil the damn things up), Jean started snipping away at the hedge while Rebecca took a break from using her magic. She had used the _**{Hestia's Blessing}**_ spell on every room in the house, followed by the _**{Rebirth of the **__**Karpophoroi}**_ spell.

It really was fortunate that her mother had insisted on teaching her some basic gardening spells during her apprenticeship. She hadn't believed her mother when she had been told that a Hearth was also the outside of the house, as well as what was within, but, as always, her mother had been proven right in the end.

"Rebecca, won't the Witenagemot demand that you tell them what all of my Authorities are?" Jean asked suddenly after about half an hour of steady clipping.

"They will dearly like to do so, I would guess." Rebecca said with a smirk, "However if you were to 'requisition' me, they can't ask me at all, can they?"

"You're a person, not a photocopier." Jean objected.

"True, but Campione rarely care about such things." the Hearth Witch replied with a shrug, "The Witenagemot is used to Lord Alec stealing our books and the like if they interest him, so you saying that you're taking me because you need a guide or advisor when it comes to the Mage Associations, it won't be that much of a surprise…especially with Princess Alice on their side."

"Who now?" Jean asked as she finished the hedge and turned to face Rebecca.

"Princess Alice is the witch who stands at the top of Heaven-based Witchcraft." Rebecca replied, "100% Accurate Precognition, Clairvoyance, Astral Projection…there is little of that ilk that she cannot do. She is also the person who sent me here."

"Huh." Jean considered that, "Why would she send you though Rebecca? Not that I'm not grateful for your help, but wouldn't an actual combat mage be more appropriate if she knew that we'd be facing a Heretic God?"

"There _are_ no Knights within the Witenagemot." the witch shrugged, "We're almost exclusively a research organisation. As for the Royal Arsenal,…we are rivals, but a greater point is that Princess Alice and Lord Alec cordially despise one another; their bickering is something of a legend among our two organisations.

As to why me…I honestly have no clue. It could be because I'm one of the few Librarian Hearth Witches that learned Self-Defence spells or for some reason I don't know about."

"Damn." Jean shook her head, "Well, I'm going to go visit a friend of my mother who lives near the Village Post Office to see if she'd be willing to potter about in the garden here for a while until the place gets sold. If she says yes, we can catch the ferry to Mull whenever we're ready."

"I'll have my bags packed." Rebecca drawled as she headed inside.

_5:47_

_Oban Ferry Terminal_

The journey to and from Iona was tiring, not just because of the ferry ride, but because one had to catch the bus from Fionnphort to get to Craignure on the other side of the island in order to catch the Ferry to Oban, which was called, rather unimaginatively, the _Isle of Mull_.

"I hate travelling by boat." the witch groused as the two girls walked towards the small Oban Train Station from the rather impressively built Ferry Terminal.

"Quite ironic considering I'm a Campione with Authorities to do with the Sea." Jean remarked quietly as she checked her watch, "The train to Edinburgh doesn't leave until ten past six, so we should buy the tickets, grab a bite to eat, then board. I'll let my lawyer know about the house being ready for sale when we get to Glasgow."

"Where would you recommend we eat?" Rebecca asked uncertainly.

"Something quick." Jean said firmly, "We only have twenty minutes. Ah, right. I'll grab the tickets, you grab the grub from that wee shop and we can eat on the train. Nothing with tomatoes in it for me."

"Right." Rebecca tottered off to the small shop that sold sandwiches, chocolate and drinks for people coming off and on the train. Jean approached the window and purchased two tickets for Edinburgh Waverly. The price was high, but that wasn't anything new; prices had been going through the roof for a while now. Stupid inflation.

The two barely made it onto the train before the conductor began closing all the doors because Rebecca had run to Waterstones to buy a book, earning her an eye roll from Jean.

The two settled in for the almost three-hour journey to Edinburgh, chatting in hushed tones about what to do once they arrive in London.

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_Same Time_

_Master Bedroom, Princess Alice's Residence, London._

"Alice." Alec said calmly, "Why, in the name of sanity, did you send a _Hearth Witch _to do battle with a _Heretic God_?"

The Black Prince had, as he always did, barged through the powerful magic Barriers designed to keep others out and Princess Alice's Ectoplasmal Projection ability contained. He had then breezed past the witch's protesting guardian and entered her master bedroom, forcing her to wake up.

Princess Alice had an incredibly weak body as a result of her incredibly powerful Heaven-based magic, to the point that walking across the room was a major exercise for her. She got to all her appointments by manifesting an avatar of herself using Ectoplasm, but her guardian, Miss Ericson, was far too domineering for the Speaker of the Witenagemot as she constantly put that barrier up when Alice didn't have an appointment, in order to force her to do paperwork, schoolwork or something of that ilk.

Alice, a frail looking woman of twenty-four with pale platinum-blond hair and dark turquoise eyes, heaved herself up from her bed with a grunt to regard the Campione tiredly

"_Must_ you constantly intrude in a lady's private quarters uninvited, Alec?" she asked. She looked more pale than normal as a result of helping Kusanagi Godō in his battle with The Great Sage Equalling Heaven and his brothers not a week ago.

"Answer the question." Alec said impatiently.

"Who should I have sent, then?" Alice asked wearily, "Your Royal Arsenal would have ignored me, _you_ were busy gallivanting around Circe's island…I really had no other choice. Besides, I Saw that she would do fine against the Heretic God."

"Who was the Heretic God?" Alec asked. The irritating self-confidence of the newborn Campione still rankled him greatly. She hadn't seemed even slightly intimidated by the fact she was talking to an experienced and blooded Campione. On the contrary, he had seemed to amuse her greatly.

Alec hated women.

"I do not know." Alice replied, "All I foresaw was a victory if Rebecca Piper went, and disaster if she did not. You and two of the other Campione would have fallen had she not defeated that Heretic God."

Personally, Alec doubted that. He hated having to fight Heretic Gods, but he was good at it. His Authorities from the Fallen Angel Ramiel, the Three Furies, Minos, Melusine and the Behemoth were all ones he was well acquainted with and could use well, given enough time for preparation.

"You're hiding something." Alec observed. He was very familiar with Alice, despite their mutual dislike and could see through her…most of the time.

"I cannot tell you and why do you wish to know in the first place?" Alice said.

"The new Campione has no intentions of moving from Britain." Alec said impatiently, "She quite blatantly _threatened_ me if I or the Royal Arsenal interfered in her education once she completed a mission for Pandora."

"She can remember her experiences from the Netherworld?!" Alice's eyes shot up in interest.

"Evidently so. She even refers to the Goddess as 'Mother Pandora' and me as her adopted sibling." Alec snorted in distaste.

"I see." Alice said slowly, a smile crossing her face, "I See indeed."

"You aren't going to tell me what you mean by that, are you?" Alec said in exasperation.

"Just because I can look into the future, it doesn't mean that I should act on everything I see." Alice told him, "Sometimes, the future is fine as it is, and this is one of those times."

The Black Prince huffed. "I hope then, for all our sakes, that you are right. Guinevere is on the move and she will not rest until the King Who Manifests at the World's End is revived."

Alice nodded. "I trust my visions, Alec. They have never steered me wrong yet. Jean Campbell, the Eighth Campione, is a force that will be of use against both Guinevere and the King Who Manifests at the World's End if and when he revives."

"Women and their intuition." Alec shook his head in mild disgust.

"Misogynist!" Alice shot back.

"Grrr…!" the two growled at each other before launching into one of their frequent spats that happened whenever they got close to each other.

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**Next Chapter: The Greenwich Witenagemot**

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	4. The Greenwich Witenagemot

**Author's Note: Yo. Chapter 4 here.**

**The poll is in and I am proud to announce that the winning Authority is…****Bannière de la Pucelle d'Orléans! Yeah, I thought it would be the winner, but I am surprised that Scaffold of Pyre had so many votes!**

**Anyway, this is more a transition chapter than anything else.**

**Sorry about that. Next one will be better, I promise.**

**Read, Review and check out my other stories!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Campione!**

"Godō" - Regular Speech

'_My Everyday life__…__!_' - Thoughts

"**God Slayer!****"** - Heretic God/Powered Up Campione speech

"_**Fire!**_" - Magic/Authority Use

**Chapter 4: The Greenwich Witenagemot**

_The Next Day_

_King's Cross Station_

"I hate all-day train journeys." Jean grumbled as she dismounted from the train, swiftly followed by Rebecca.

"With you there." the witch said with a wince as she stretched her legs, "Beats a car trip though."

Jean snorted in agreement. They had stayed the night at a Witenagemot safe house in Edinburgh. Sparsely furnished and dusty as all get out, it had nevertheless been a pleasant change from the Hostel bed she had slept in after her Aunt had been committed to hospital.

Taking the train from Edinburgh to London had been long, boring and made her wish for an attack by those Tritons, just to get away from fat old men who ate egg mayonnaise sandwiches and farted afterwards!

"Well, this is your home, Rebecca." Jean told her…friend? Hostage? Whatever the hell she was, she was confusing the heck out of Jean. Shaking her head, she continued, "Lead on, McDuff."

"That hoary old chestnut!" Rebecca shook her head in mock horror, "We are so buying you a thesaurus, Your Majesty."

"Will you give the royal epaulets a rest already?" Jean huffed as she carried her bag towards the ticket barriers. The Hearth Witch had been twitting her with the 'Your Majesty' quotes all day and Jean couldn't help notice the amusement in her eyes as she did so.

Friends. Urgh.

"My apologies, Your Majesty." Rebecca drawled, making the Scottish Campione sigh in exasperation.

The two girls stepped outside King's Cross onto Euston Road and started walking.

"So where are we going?" Jean asked.

"Home." Rebecca's voice was full of longing.

"Which is where exactly?" Jean probed.

"Hampstead, a two minute walk away from Hampstead Heath." Rebecca replied dreamily.

"Hampstead is one of the most expensive places to live in all of London." Jean caught up with her friend as she spoke, "You a millionaire or something?"

"Or something." Rebecca replied as they headed towards a bus stop, "My family were old nobility, very minor, but still well respected. We were one of the founding members of the Witenagemot and one of the first things we pushed through was that the main houses of the founding members were owned by the Witenagemot as a whole, with the families being the custodians of them as long as their line remains undisturbed."

"Wait, the Witenagemot was founded about a hundred and fifty years ago, in Victorian times." Jean frowned, "Nobility were almost obsolescent by that time. Was founding the Witenagemot a way to keep some of your power and prestige?"

"In a nutshell, yes." Rebecca sighed as she sat down at the bus stop, "The name I have now, Piper, isn't my real name but we buried our original name generations ago and assumed the name Piper about fifty years ago. I don't even know what my family's original name was; it's been buried so well."

"I see…and we're taking the bus why?" Jean asked with a moue of distaste.

"You really hate public transport." Rebecca observed.

"I get car sick on buses." Jean shuddered, "Never cars, just buses."

"A little warning next time?" Rebecca sighed before standing up, striding along the pavement and yelling, "TAXI!"

_Ten Minutes Later…_

_Rebecca's House_

"That has to be one of the most expensive houses I've ever seen." Jean remarked as she gaped at the house in question.

It wasn't actually any different from the other houses along the row, which was to say it was still far more upper-class than she had ever seen in her entire life. The garden was amazingly well done, very much an art form of gardening, with none of those silly garden gnomes dotting the place.

"Remind me to hire you to do my garden." she said to Rebecca, who was looking both happy to be home and nervous as to what Jean thought of her home.

"It would be my pleasure." the Hearth Witch said with a grin, "Now, lets get inside my house so we can unwind for a couple of hours before we go and visit Hell…in other words the Bureaucratic nightmare that is the Greenwich Witenagemot."

Walking towards the front gate, Rebecca touched the left-hand pillar for a moment before nodding. "The wards are still up, so Lord Alec hasn't been here."

"Huh?" Jean was confused here.

"Remember how Campione are immune to magic? That applies to wards as well. Salvatore Doni waltzed through an impressive set of wards just before he destroyed the Herarion." Rebecca explained as she opened the gate, "He destroyed them just by focussing on walking through them. All Campione can do it, no matter how powerful the wards…unless a god or Campione created them. Then it takes more than a little effort to break them."

"Go figure." Jean said with a shake of her head, "That must be one reason why Campione scare the crap out of regular magic users; we can get past the best wards and spells any mage or group thereof can think up without any effort."

"That and you guys can smash us to pieces once you get through aforementioned wards and defences." Rebecca pointed out mildly as they walked up to her front door, pulling a key out as she spoke, "The former is a nuisance, the latter is far more deadly than that and one we avidly try to avoid at all costs."

She put the key in the lock, twisted it left and right before with drawing it from the lock and opening the door and beckoning Jean in.

"Enter my home as my honoured guest, bound by nothing, oh Campione." she said formally, and the Scottish girl could almost see the hundred year old wards parting to admit her into the house.

"My thanks." she replied and stepped inside the house, the wards sealing themselves shut behind her.

"Sorry for the ceremony, but otherwise you would have shattered the wards and Mother would be most upset by that." Rebecca apologised, "Still, now you're here. Let's relax."

Jean didn't day anything as she was busy being struck dumb by the amount of power Rebecca was emanating now. She had been -for the sake of comparison- a campfire, magic-wise, before stepping into the house. Potent and directed, yes, but not all that powerful.

Now? Now Rebecca was a furnace. Powerful and emanating age like the swords that Poseidon had given them. She hadn't been joking when she said that most of her power was tied up in her Hearth. She must have been running on maybe ten, maybe fifteen percent of her total reserves until setting foot back here.

"Now that's a transformation." she remarked to her host, "You weren't kidding about how much stronger you are here."

Rebecca grinned, "Yep. Right now, I could hold off a Great Knight…if I'm lucky. Now, I feel like a pot of tea…"

Ten minutes later and the two women were sitting down in the living room (one of them anyway), munching on a tray of hot scones with liberal amounts of strawberry jam and butter smeared on top of them, accompanied by a pot of Earl Grey tea, the real stuff, not the cheap crap you buy in the supermarkets.

"I usually don't drink tea, but this is some good stuff." Jean remarked.

"One of the advantages of being a member of the Witenagemot is that we have access to some of the finest foods and drinks in the former British Empire. Considering that used to be a third of the globe, it is a considerable perk." Rebecca replied.

"I'm sure." Jean said wryly, "Now…who is it we have to talk to here?"

"In London? If we want to, we could trawl through the proper channels, but I hate all the paperwork, so we'll go for Plan B." Rebecca replied with a wicked grin, "We go straight to the person who sent me on the mission and explain things to her…Princess Alice, the Speaker of the Witenagemot."

"The precog." Jean nodded before adding, "The way you're ginning like a schoolgirl ready to unleash a prank of epic proportions on a rather strict schoolmistress leads me to believe you are plotting something, Rebecca."

"How intuitive of you." Rebecca smirked, "I need you to Campione yourself to the hilt with Princess Alice's guardian/taskmistress, Miss Ericson. She is a redoubtable woman who is disliked by more than a few members of the Witenagemot because of the airs she puts on about herself due to her status as Princess Alice's guardian."

"Tin God persona?" Jean asked and received a nod, "Good. I know how to handle her sort. Flights?"

"I'd like to stay at least one day here to make sure that the wards on the house are up to scratch." Rebecca replied, "After that…flights to France are fairly quick and common, especially in summer. I doubt it will be a challenge to arrange seats in first class at some point."

"Good." Jean looked down at her clothes. Comfortable and subdued, they were not the kind of thing that was designed to impress people. "Shopping first? If I'm going to Campione this woman, a good first impression seems the ticket."

"Girl, London has more clothes shops than you can shake a stick at." Rebecca laughed, "If you really want to impress people though, look no further than my family's magically expanded walk-in wardrobe. We haven't thrown something out in centuries, just in case it might be useful down the line. I'm fairly sure we have something that can be thrown together that would be suitable for a King of Kings."

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_Two Hours Later_

_Princess Alice's Residence, Greenwich, London_

"That is one powerful magic barrier." Jean said mildly. She and Rebecca stood before the barrier surrounding Princess Alice's home and were rather impressed by the complexity and power of the barrier. It could certainly stop an army of mages from breeching it for quite some time.

"It is." Rebecca agreed. She was dressed in a plain back dress and solid, sensible black shoes with no heels. In one hand, she carried her wand, a breech of the etiquette of the Witenagemot to carry it bared on their property or so she had told Jean, "I believe that the barrier is even stronger than it was last time I was here. Looks like Lord Alec dropped by. Miss Ericson always powers up the barrier to an even higher level of strength after one of his visits, for all the use it does."

"Stubborn woman." Jean remarked, "Well, time to play my part."

She held out her hand and intoned, "_**Oh**_ _**Weapon of mine, golden and invincible. Come forth, so we may do battle with our foes!**_"

The golden trident shimmered into existence in midair, slowly gravitating to Jean's hand. She grasped it as if she had been born to wield it, the power of the _**[Tríaina]**_ Authority thrumming through her body.

This second incantation (or 'aria' as Rebecca had told her the Witenagemot called the words of power needed to use Divine Authorities) summoned the full power of the _**Tríaina**_ Authority, rather than using it as a conduit for one of the other Authorities. In this form, she had enhanced speed, strength, endurance, agility and reactions, as well as having every Ancient Greek trident fighting style available to her.

The best part of _this_ version of the _**Tríaina**_ was that it wasn't limited to twice a day use like it was for all the other Authorities, not including whatever passive use she got out of the bonus abilities that the Authorities granted her.

Twice a day wasn't too bad by the standards of Campione Authorities, Rebecca had informed her. Several Authorities that were possessed by Campione could only be used once per day, sometimes in conjunction with several other restrictions, like specific lunar cycles or a sacrifice of blood or something.

Jean was just glad she had an Authority that she could call upon whenever she wanted, even although it screamed the identity of the god she had slain to all and sundry.

"Now then…let's see how tough this barrier _really_ is." she smirked before spinning the trident one-handedly, then slamming the triple-pointed spear head-on into the barrier in an exact re-enactment of Poseidon's attack on Rebecca's _**{Shield of Hephaestus}**_ only a couple of days ago.

The barrier shattered as easily as thin glass being struck by a rock, the sound of a shriek of shock and pain coming from inside the house, making Jean look startled.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Miss Ericson." Rebecca replied with a frown, "She must have been trying to actively add her own magic to the barrier in order to prevent you from breaking through, and suffered a magical backlash from being connected directly to the barrier."

Jean dismissed her trident and started to walk towards the house. "Well then, let's go and render some aid to her then."

Rebecca followed Jean and eyed the clothes she wore critically. Three-inch black heels, black skin-tight trousers, a white shirt and a black trench coat were what they had decided upon. Black was a powerful colour and was intimidating on a Campione, as proven by both John Pluto Smith and Marquis Voban.

Being a Hearth Witch, she was more than up to the task of altering the clothes to fit Jean in less than five minutes per article of clothing. The shoes fit her like a glove, so those were alright to be left alone.

Hearth Witches were, put simply, like the Wicked Witch from Hansel and Gretel. They had power over the house and home and all the things that went with it. Cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, gardening…her main spells were designed to work through those actions, empowering them and adding effects to them.

The clothes that she had altered for Jean, just to give an example, were now far tougher and more resilient than they first appeared to be, approximating the toughness of the best leather armour in existence, whilst maintaining the flexibility and texture of the original material.

Jean reached the door and looked at Rebecca for guidance. The Witch just gestured for her to go in. With a shrug, Jean grabbed the door knob and opened the door, stopping at the sight she beheld in the foyer.

A tall woman with dirty blond hair done up into a tight chignon bun and wearing a dark turquoise dress was sprawled out on the floor, gulping in air like she had just run a marathon. By the looks of it, she wasn't going anywhere fast.

"Hello there. Miss Ericson, isn't it?" Jean greeted her cheerfully, "I'm Jean Campbell, the Eighth Campione. Sorry for bringing down your barrier like that, but it didn't seem like you'd be willing to let me through, so I let myself in."

"Y-You…what do you want with Princess Alice?!" the woman rasped.

"I need to have a little chat with her." Jean replied with an airy wave of her hand, "I know she has responsibilities, but this isn't a request. Surely you understand that about Campione by now?"

Judging from the sour expression on her face, the woman knew that very well.

"Now, I'm sorry to leave you like this, but you are old enough to not need assistance in getting up…once you recover anyway." Jean smiled cheerfully, "Come along Rebecca. We're off to see the Princess."

"As you command, Your Majesty." Rebecca replied demurely as she followed her into the house.

"Rebecca Piper! What is the meaning of this?!" Miss Ericson spluttered.

"Don't answer that." Jean ordered shortly before turning back to Miss Ericson. "Look, I'm still not used to this whole 'Campione' thing, but you are starting to irk me. I'd suggest keeping quiet until I leave. Understood?"

Miss Ericson evidently did, because she glared at her once more before turning her head away in distaste.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Jean smiled, "Rebecca, lead the way."

The two women left the foyer and Rebecca led Jean to a room on the second floor. This door was the same as any of the others, but the Hearth Witch strode towards it like it was lit up with neon lights.

Knocking on the door, Rebecca called out, "Lady Alice? It's Rebecca Piper. I have brought the Eighth Campione to see you."

A cheerful voice called back, "Come on in Rebecca."

Opening the door, Rebecca then stood to one side and bowed Jean in.

"Rebecca, I will get back at you for every time you twit me with royal etiquette. I hope you know that." Jean told her calmly as she entered what looked like a parlour. It was very…cute. The room was coloured in shades of white, cream and pink, with hand-carved dressers and bookshelves around the room.

In the centre of the room was a circular table, at which was sat a young woman who, Jean could tell, was not actually there.

"Princess Alice, I presume." Jean said with a small smile, "A pleasure to finally meet you."

"Jean Campbell, Eighth Devil King." Alice bowed slightly, "I bid you welcome to my home. My apologies for Miss Ericson's…rudeness, but she has issues with Campione because Alec continually barges in all the time."

"The thief seems fond of violating other people's homes." Jean observed, "Although right now, I cannot very well have any moral superiority as I have just done the same."

"I would have invited you in, had Miss Ericson not activated that barrier to keep my Ectoplasmal Body Projection contained to within this house." Alice waved dismissively, "Think nothing of it. Now, Rebecca. You succeeded in your mission, just as I foresaw you doing."

"Th-thank you, my Lady." Rebecca flushed as she dipped a curtsey, "It was Jean's plan that carried the day however."

"I would have died had you not been there to help me, Rebecca." Jean interjected quietly, "Don't sell yourself short. You may not be a Knight, but you fought well."

"Exactly." Alice nodded, "When I Saw the battle that took place, it was terrifying for me to watch, yet you, who was right there at Ground Zero, managed to maintain your composure in the face of an almost full-power Heretic God. You should be proud of yourself; many veteran Knights have not managed to do so."

"A-anyway…" Rebecca was not accustomed to so much praise, especially from one of the two most powerful witches of modern times, so she decided to strategically move on, "Jean, shouldn't you tell Lady Alice about Lady Pandora's instructions?"

"Fine." Jean gave Rebecca a knowing look before turning to Alice, "My adoptive mother Pandora has directed that I go to France in order to deal with a Heretic God that is due to rise there imminently."

"So Alec was telling the truth." Alice said, a look of curiosity in her voice and expression, "You _can_ remember the time you spend in the Netherworld."

"As I told Rebecca, the reason Campione cannot recall their time in the Netherworld is because they deny their relationship with Mother Pandora." Jean shrugged, "She is our link to and from the Netherworld and our relationship with her determines the strength of that link. I have the best relationship with her, so I can remember most of what occurs there."

"Fascinating." Alice remarked, "Anyway, do you have any idea what the Heretic God in France might be?"

"None, just that it is one who I am 'the best person to face it.'" Jean replied, "That leads me to believe that it is either another Sea God or a Fire God."

"Makes sense." Alice nodded, "It could be a God of Steel though."

"A what now?" Jean asked.

"Gods of Steel are Heretic Gods who embody the sword, who step out of myths to do with forging and tempering swords or else wielding them." Alice explained, "Gods of the Forge, Gods of War, Gods of Battle, Gods of the Military…all who are born to create or wield swords and use them in battle are Gods of Steel. Tell me, who in France's history and legend would best fit that category?"

"Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orléans." Jean replied immediately, "She is one of the best known women in the world. However…she was a mortal woman who was martyred after her execution by the Church. I thought we were talking about Heretic Gods?"

"Myth and Legend extend beyond deities Jean." Rebecca told her, "Lord Alec has an Authority from the Fallen Angel Ramiel, as well as from the three Furies and the Behemoth. None of them are gods, merely creatures and beings of legend. Christian Saints, like Joan of Arc, can materialise as Heretic Gods."

"Well hell." Jean sighed, "So not only do I have to keep an eye out for the gods of old walking about, I have to watch out for ancient beasts and people of folklore wandering about as well. Who next? Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf?"

"That would be amusing to see!" Alice chortled, "The Authorities you would gain would be rather interesting."

"…Let's hope that the ones from the Brothers Grimm don't come to life." Jean said with a sigh, "Now, that leads on to my next request…I'd like to keep the identity of the god I slew as much a secret as I can, so Rebecca will be coming with me on my trip to France."

"That seems a fairly easy request to fulfil." Alice nodded, "I already stonewalled Alec when he demanded to know who you slew. Your confidence unnerved him somewhat."

"That was my intent." Jean replied as she clenched and unclenched her fists, "He had the gall to break into _my_ home and make _demands_ of me. The nerve of the man…"

"He does that to everyone." Alice laughed, "Especially me. He really irritates Miss Ericson. Anyway, by all means take Rebecca with you. She is one of the most capable members of the Witenagemot and will surely be of great assistance to you. I'll explain the circumstances to the rest of the Witenagemot myself."

"My thanks." Jean inclined her head at the woman in gratitude, "Might I ask why you feel…odd? It's been bugging me since I first saw you."

"Ah. That's because this is an ectoplasmal clone body that I have used Astral Projection to possess." Alice explained, "My body is very weak because of my magic's strength, so I use this method to attend meetings and the like."

"Ouch. That has to suck." Jean had to wince at that. She liked being active and the thought of having such a weak body was horrifying to her.

"I'm used to it." Alice replied with a shrug, "My power helps so many people, so being physically weak is a minor inconvenience compare to the good I can accomplish with my powers…such as ensuring that you and three Campione aren't killed by the Sea God for example."

"Many thanks for that by the way." Jean said dryly, "Might I ask why you chose Rebecca? I am grateful that she came to my aid of course, but sending a Hearth Witch to fight a Heretic God is a little…reckless, don't you think?"

"I fully agree, but I Saw, using my precognition ability, that sending anyone other than Rebecca would result in them arriving too late to be of much good." Alice replied, "They would have dawdled on the way, treating it as a holiday rather than a serious mission. By the time they arrived on Iona, Poseidon would have manifested, crushed you to death in your house and reclaimed his Authorities. Alec, Doni and Voban would have died also, not to mention countless other innocent lives lost."

"My God." Rebecca said shakily.

"That is my burden; to know the most likely outcome of the future if a certain action is taken." Alice sighed, "Fortunately for all of us, Rebecca was amenable to go on the mission I gave her, so everything turned out as it should."

The ectoplasmal clone shook her head as if to dispel the gloomy atmosphere. "Now then, what are your plans for the rest of the day?" she asked with a cheerful smile, "I would like to hear your tale in your own words. Visions do not give full justice to events, even ones as clear as mine."

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_The Next Day_

_Heathrow Airport, London_

Jean was more than slightly pleased by how things were going. She had Princess Alice's support, as well as Rebecca's company. She was a King of the World, bound by nobody.

Except these damn customs officials.

"How long are they going to take!?" she hissed to Rebecca as they stood in line as the people were sent one by one through full body scanners to check for concealed items. This was the answer to those people who had objected to body searches, but it was slow as hell.

"Easy does it Jean." Rebecca said soothingly, "We're just five minutes away from boarding the plane. Keep calm. The last thing we need is for you to have Airport Rage."

The Scottish girl huffed and distracted herself with remembering the squawks of protest from Miss Ericson as they had left Princess Alice's residence. The staid woman still hadn't recovered from the backlash of the barrier collapse an hour after Jean entered the house, which Rebecca had found rather amusing.

"We're through!" Rebecca muttered to Jean, who realised that while she had been in la-la land, they had walked through the damn scanners.

"Finally!" Jean said with a huff and a small smile, "Next stop, Nice Côte d'Azur Airport Cannes, France!"

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**Next Chapter: Knights and the Surging Sea**

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